To Hurt The One You Love
by E Salvatore
Summary: Sometimes, keeping the one you love safe, means hurting them. Sometimes, to hurt the one you love is your only option.
1. Prologue

**TO HURT THE ONE YOU LOVE**

**Summary : Sometimes, keeping the one you love safe, means hurting them. Sometimes, to hurt the one you love is your only option.**

**Disclaimer : NCIS : LA and any/all recognizable trademarks belong to their rightfully acknowledged owners.**

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To Hurt The One You Love

**Prologue : Born Operator**

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Kensi's P.O.V

"_Hey, Kenz?"_

"Hmm?"

"_Love you_."

I swallow hard at this, holding the phone away from me so that he won't notice this awkward pause. I hold back tears and bite hard on my trembling bottom lip. Then I slowly lift the phone back to me and push out this half-truth that I'm not so sure of anymore.

"Love you too."

I can _hear_ his smile as he disconnects the call. Abandoning my phone on the kitchen table along with my cup of coffee, which just minutes ago was incredibly tempting, I drag my appetite-less body back into the bathroom, where I had been prepared to take a shower before planning my evening.

I draw myself a bath and keep busy while waiting for the tub to fill, knowing all along that this is a bad idea. To sit in a bath for a long period of time will inevitably lead to a wandering mind, and that is the worst thing that can happen right now. And yet, I push forward relentlessly.

I prepare a fluffy terrycloth robe and twist my hair into a high bun. I force myself to chug down a few sips of coffee and keep my phone on a shelf next to the sink, just incase. I procrastinate and move slowly; finding faults with my spotless home just to put off thinking about my current situation.

Finally, the tub is overflowing with warm water and a soothing scent of lavender, and I force myself to stop trying so hard to avoid this. I close the door behind, slip out of the robe and hang it up, secure my bun and finally, draw a shaky breath.

Then I slip into the water and shut my eyes, letting my mind torture me by going in circles over and over again.

* * *

When you're in water, there's just something that soothes you; lowers all your inhibitions, your walls. I've always thought it's because the water reminds your body of your mother's womb, giving you that sense of innocent safety.

But now, even that can't keep away my painful, dark thoughts which threaten to pull me under, to drown me in my sorrow.

Maybe I'll let them.

* * *

They call me a born operator. _He_ calls me a born operator.

And in certain ways, I guess I am. The one skill you need to be as good at our job as I am, as _he_ is, is lying. You need to be effortless, a true liar.

I was born to lie.

Half-truths come to me as easily as the alphabet; I spin intricate lies without so much as a second thought. I _never_ feel guilty for any of my lies; I don't even have to justify them.

The ends justify the means, and all that.

People in our line of work envy my effortless lying, my smooth talent at covering up the truth and easing others into a false reality. They think it's a talent, a calling. Something like a photographic memory – deeply desirable, though you won't really understand it until you have it.

To be a born operator is both a blessing, and a curse.

You see, to be born to lie, you have to have a sixth sense of sorts.

If you're born to lie, then you're also born to detect lies.

And when the truth is constantly shoved in your face; when you can't even protect your own mind from the cold, hard reality that is life – that's when it hurts.

I'm not sure if all marriage vows include promises of truth and no deception, but I'm pretty sure ours did. I'm not sure if everyone sticks to their wedding vows, but up until now, I'm pretty sure our marriage was going just fine, governed by our improvised vows to each other.

People laugh when they hear of our vows. _Who makes up vows right there and then when the priest is asking for them?_

We did. And I stand by it.

Those vows, they were from the heart. They were true and sincere and didn't involve promises we couldn't keep. They protected us from the harsh nature of our job; they kept us together for years.

Those vows changed our lives, kept us happy, a foreign concept to either of us up until that very moment. Those vows saved our lives so many times – the vow to protect each other, no matter what. To give up everything for the other, if we had to.

Some people are bound by their wedding vows. Ours were bound to us; personalized and unique, something no other couple could ever use.

Those vows – _our_ vows –are sacred.

Right now, I don't know what he's doing; I don't know who he's with.

But I have to trust him, because that's what I promised in my vows.

It's just too bad he didn't keep his vow of ever-lasting, all-encompassing love to me.

He's _lying_, and that is enough to make me reconsider everything.

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So…how do you guys like it so far?

**First attempt at an NCIS : LA fic, and I really hope this will be good. It might sound a little obscure right now, but don't worry, you guys will catch on quickly.**

**If all goes according to plan ( a plan I drew up while finishing up my Bio paper; heavy semester, don't ask), there will be a prologue, 8 chapters and an epilogue to this story.**

**Unfortunately, I have a tendency to go off-course when it comes to plans.**

**I should probably stop now and go write a new chapter of **_**Baby Sister**_**.**

**Yeah, I think I'll do that.**

**Please review or PM me if there's anything, or if you'd like to.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	2. Chapter 1

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter One : Fractured Glass**

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Kensi's P.O.V

Right now, we're like fractured glass.

Looking at him, that's the only thing that comes to mind. Fractured glass is pretty, enticing in a toxic way. It has the allure of something strong, something with willpower. It's got attitude, and it's proud for that, for the fact that it's still standing, fractures and cracks and all.

Our marriage? It's not pretty. It was, once upon a time, during our honeymoon. But then, our marriage became beautiful. It bloomed into something we couldn't live without. At one point, we couldn't even bear to go undercover separately. Nate had a field day with that one, analyzing our abandonment issues.

Most marriages reach an all-time high, and from then onwards, go downhill. Ours peaked and stayed on top for ages before we started sliding down. But it wasn't anything big – a few months later saw us back to our usual selves.

How unfortunate for us that glass, once fractured, will _never_ be the same again.

* * *

He's walking towards me and I'm trapped with nowhere to go.

Ridiculous! He's my _husband_, for crying out loud! Why would I want an escape route? Not to mention that before this, we had been best friends, and I'd made it a point to avoid _avoiding_ him.

He's three steps away; two; one; he's right in front of me and he's smiling the smile he knows I love and for just a split-second, a gift from the Heavens, I forget all that we've been through and I see the metaphorical glass of our marriage clear up, ridding itself of those painfully exquisite serpentine fractures, the ones that had managed to slink in unannounced in the dead of the night.

I give him my brightest smile, the one I'd worn to our wedding, and his eyes light up, but only for a while. Then reality comes crashing down and the weight of it all is too much, just _too_ much, and those dark, twisted fractures snake their way across the once-smooth surface of our marriage.

"Hetty's doing another team night," He informs me casually, dropping a light kiss on my forehead. Instinctively, I reach up on my tip-toes so that he doesn't have to bend that much. It's a habit, one that will surely be hard to break, I catch myself thinking grimly.

_Stop this!_ I tell myself. _You won't have to break this habit – you two are doing fine. You survived through all of it and you're a little off the course right now, but you'll be back to the top soon_.

"Karaoke night?" I hazard a guess, finding a temporary distraction in the unorganized pile of paperwork I'd haphazardly stacked on my desk.

"Amusement park. Or a fair. Something along those lines." He scrunches his eyebrows in concentration and years later, I still find this cute.

"Mmm-hmm…" I hum my agreement distractedly, setting the paperwork back to its previous spot, now a tall, organized stack.

"I've got a little bit more to go," He points out his own paperwork. "And Hetty wants to see me for something, so I'll get home a little later, 'kay?"

Home is a gorgeous beachfront house we'd bought shortly before the incident, happy to know that we would soon have a use for the guest room.

We wouldn't.

For months, I'd avoided the room and its cheerful buttercup walls, courtesy of one Abigail Sciuto, godmother-to-be.

Then one day, after our falling-out, I'd stormed home, driving in a rage, slamming doors behind me only to find myself in the unused room, sobbing my heart out, mourning all of my losses.

It was quite therapeutic, actually.

"Okay." I agree, letting his touch his lips to mine for a moment as I pass him on the way out. "See you later."

He nods and resumes his former task of the dreaded paperwork, leaving me to my own devices. I'm glad that we had arrived separately this morning – that way, we don't need to worry about transportation right now.

I pull out of the building, basking in the late afternoon glow of L.A. Slipping on my sunglasses, I head home, internally struggling with my contemplative mind.

_

* * *

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So many people have left Kensi Blye…so many.

_And the sad part is that she's lost track of those she's lost. Lost track of all her pain, her tears, her bouts of depression._

_Her father, Dom…so many more. Not just men, but mostly. Maybe Nate would be able to make something of this, but she's really not the type to share. And the only one she _does_ confide in...doesn't even know the whole truth._

_Kensi chokes back a sob as this particular thought, accompanied by that painful truth she just can't say out loud and the usual array of emotions, enters her mind once again. Losing Dom had almost destroyed their team; it had threatened to fracture the entire thread which held them together._

_Losing _him_…would finish the job. It would truly kill the team; it would kill Sam; it would kill Hetty; even Nate and Eric._

_And most importantly, it would _kill_ her._

_Losing him is not an option, and she's fully aware of this fact. So she holds back her tears, keeps her head held high and enters his room; a dark, bleak sight on its own, now complete with his limp form, bandaged and covered, the ever-present beep of the monitor, the maddening drip of the IV…_

"_Hey," She says softly, aware that this greeting, and most likely anything else, will go unheard by him. She shuts the door behind her; lightly, of course - she doesn't want to risk waking him. Her emotions bubble at the surface, threatening to burst and she knows, she just _knows_ it's now or never._

_Bracing herself, she sinks into the stiff seat someone – Sam, most likely – had dragged to his bedside. She carelessly throws her handbag in the general direction of the couch a nurse had thoughtfully provided. Curling her legs under her form, she takes in his pale lips, his bandaged chest; how even in his sleep, his face is marred by worldly threats and worries._

_As she takes his hand in hers, she notes how his face seems to turn peaceful. Sucking in a sharp breath, she runs through her inner monologue, too much of a coward to voice it out loud._

G Callen_, she calls to him in her thoughts. _Back in the day, I really didn't like you. Not one bit. You seemed to be harder on me than Sam; you had less trust than anyone I'd ever met. You were bossy and insensitive and had a twisted sense of humor. You were devilishly good-looking.

Which of the above doesn't fit? _She silently asks him, smiling to herself. _

ButI couldn't have hated you even if I had wanted to – you were too damn _attractive_ for me to even dislike you. Maybe, if I had really tried, in time, I could have grown to despise you; to truly and wholly _hate_ you with every single fiber of my being.

But I didn't want to; not then and most definitely not now. I don't want to hate you, Callen, because I feel the exact opposite for you. Because when I see you healthy and happy, these damn woodland fairies take residence in my heart and sing a heavenly chorus and I don't even want to hit them. Because when you smile, I feel like I've swallowed a thousand butterflies and I don't care if they're poisonous and a health hazard, I just want to keep feeling this way, provided you keep smiling. And when you laugh, I feel like doing somersaults and all that crap, sore bones and muscles be damned.

And when you look at me like you sometimes do; when we go undercover as lovers and I catch a glimpse of your eyes…I feel like a high-school freshman all over again, and the shitty part of it is that I don't even mind.

You see, Callen, I don't want to hate you. And I'm pretty sure I can't. But if you die…

If you abandon me, if you leave me like everyone else has…so help me God, I will hate you.

Because if you leave me, then you'll never know what I feel, and I'll never know if you feel the same way, and that would drive me _mad_. Literally and metaphorically and whatever-ly.

So, G Callen, I'm just gonna come out and say this right now, and pray to God that you wake up and live, even if it's not for me. Because no matter what, you need to live. I need to know that somewhere, somehow, you're living and breathing and smiling and laughing…because…

"_Because I love you." She sighs, the relief of finally stating this fact out loud over-powering her. So what if her entire speech had remained within her mind? All that she had needed to voice out were those three little words, words she hadn't spoken, sincerely, in so long._

_And so, happy to have this truth floating around somewhere in the atmosphere, Kensi Blye leans her head near G Callen's still form, content in the knowledge that someday, these words will reach the man next to her._

_And she had been convinced he hadn't heard her, just as he's convinced she won't hear his next words, small words which would change their lives forever._

"_I love you too."_

_They fall asleep with joy clearly written across their features, both convinced that after so much pain, surely they couldn't be asked to endure any more._

* * *

Something along the lines of an amusement park or a fair turns out to be a flea market, run by various traders of different backgrounds, beliefs and ethnicities. The crisp night air has him wrapping his arms protectively around my waist, huddling me close for body warmth, once again more of a habit than a conscious action.

Hetty is leading us forward, stopping at random stalls, reminiscing of her colorful past. Nate is quickly drawn to three consecutive stalls filled with old tomes, and so we leave him behind as Eric whines about the lack of technology and Sam contemplates the thought of picking up a few things for his wife.

We're simply content to be in this moment, surrounded by our team and this playful banter that has a way of transporting us back to a time before all this pain, a time when we had been so utterly in love with each other, even the thought of problems such as ours would have been waved away by a disbelieving hand.

Somehow, the universe has this twisted way of proving you wrong, time after time. All those troubles you now find impossible? Give it some time, honey and it'll be right in your face. How naïve of _anyone_ to believe that _anything_ isn't possible.

Reality is, unfortunately, all of our worst nightmares come to life. The problem is, you never realize what your worst nightmares are until you're living in them.

Eric's shrill whistle breaks my reverie and just like that, we huddle around Hetty to let her regale us with yet another whimsical tale as I drive a bargain with myself.

_Just tonight. Just give us tonight and then you can get back to your nightmare. Just dream, for tonight._

* * *

Glass isn't all that sturdy to begin with.

Your life? My life? We're all our own, individual piece of glass. At the end of our journey, we can trace back every single crack, every hairline fracture to a single event, some of which helped us grow into the person we had been destined to be, some of which forced us to give up.

I'm at a forked path right now; just like the one you will encounter sooner or later. I've caused a fracture, and now I need to choose: do I push harder, run the risk of shattering this glass and eventually, with some luck, re-direct this fracture to form a beautiful wave? Or do I give up, and just leave this fracture as it is, an ugly scar which I will carry forever for all to see?

Glass isn't all that sturdy to begin with.

But when you're messing with fractured glass, somehow, you have a shot at reinforcing it, a chance to gather your strength and mold your piece of glass into a strong warrior, one that will excel at the challenge we call life.

But what if your fractured glass shatters?

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And there we have it, Chapter 1 of To Hurt The One You Love.

**In case you haven't noticed, there's a loose pattern to this chapter, which will apply to all other chapters : musing on chapter title, part 1 of chapter, flashback, part 2 of chapter, significance of chapter title. Also, P. will alternate between Kensi and Callen. The epilogue, however, will either be Hetty's P.O.V or third-person.**

**Hope you guys like this so far, and guys, please take care of yourselves and your love ones – with all that's going on right now, I'm really hoping everyone's going to be okay.**

**Feel free to review or PM me if you'd like.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	3. Chapter 2

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Two : Issues**

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Callen's P.O.V

Everyone has issues.

Commitment issues, abandonment issues…that's what we had. But issues aren't limited to those two. There are hundreds and thousands of issues, each joining together to separate this world into two types of people : people like us, who are filled with issues, and people like Nate, who have issues but ignore them anyway, choosing to mess with other people's issues instead.

If you ask me, people like Nate have the most issues of them all.

* * *

The Monday after our trip to the flea market, I wake up earlier than usual to find an empty space next to me.

"Kenz?" I call out, noting that the shower isn't running. I'm about to reach for my gun as she walks in, her hair dripping, indicating that she's fresh out of the shower.

"Couldn't sleep," She shrugs, smiling lightly. I admire her Herculean effort, her attempt to keep her emotions from me. It's a punch to my gut, knowing that I'm the reason for all her pain, but I know that I'll do anything to keep her alive, even if it means hurting her. And right now, that's my only option.

"So you got up at the crack of dawn and decided to get ready for work?" I get out of bed, knowing even as I'm speaking these words that she really had no other choice: like me, once Kensi's out of bed, she just can't fall asleep again.

I head for the bathroom, feeling her stare on me. It's not on purpose; she's just used to following my every move. "It's not like I could doze off again." She pulls her towel tighter around her form, somehow slipping up and showing her pain. It's a protective move; she's trying to protect herself from the hurt I've inevitably caused her in my effort to keep her away, and therefore, safe.

I nod in understanding. "Good morning," I kiss her as I pass by her. She melts into me, somehow unable to let go.

As she moves to deepen the kiss, I find myself going through my next move. If my previous actions haven't caused her to completely hate me, this surely will.

Somehow, even though this is what I want right now, the mere thought of it causes me indescribable pain; loving Kensi from afar while making her hate me will be the hardest thing I will ever do.

* * *

"_Marry me."_

_Kensi lets out a disbelieving snort at these words. "Seriously, G? You're drunk?"_

_Callen pulls back from the kiss, keeping his firm hold on her shoulders. "Marry me." He says simply, looking into her eyes._

"_Callen." Kensi squirms uncomfortably, getting him to release his hold on her. She walks out of the living room, into the kitchen where they'd left their dinner. "You're joking. I'm a first-date only girl and you don't date law enforcement. And even though we've somehow managed to stay together, that doesn't mean that we're ready to get _married_." Her voice breaks on the last word. She turns to face the kitchen counter, avoiding his gaze as he trails after her._

"_We've got issues, Kenz." Damn it, even the sound of his voice alerts those butterflies to his presence! "I'll be the first to admit that. But I love you. And I want to marry you. For the first time in my life, I actually want to spend my life with someone. With you."_

_She turns around to face him, momentarily abandoning the cartons of take-out. "And what about me?" She's near hysterical right now, all of her fears running through her mind. Somehow, she's content with what they have right now. And marriage…it might be their breaking point. What if they're not strong enough? She wants to be with him too, but not at the risk of losing him._

"_Don't you want to be with me?" Callen is taken aback for just a minute, but then his eyes twinkle and she knows that he's got her trapped and he's not going to let her go._

_She sighs. It's pointless to lie to him- she can't. He can read her like an open book, and he _will_ read her. "Of course I do." She admits softly, in barely more than a whisper. But those four words are enough to alert him to her pain. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around her waist, soothing her by running his hand in circles on her back._

"_Hey…" He calms her. "What's wrong?"_

_It takes her a moment to reply, but when she does, her words are muffled against his shoulder._ _He pulls back and gently cups her face between his hands, pressing his forehead against hers. "Again, Kenz," He murmurs softly so that she'll stay calm. "And this time, not against my shirt."_

_Her lips curve up in a slight small as he'd been hoping for and he responds with a smile of his own. "God, I love you." She whispers, no longer uncomfortable with these words._

_He keeps his thoughts to himself, knowing better than to interrupt her flow of thoughts right now. He gives her a moment to collect her thoughts; patiently waits for her to speak._

"_We're so screwed up." She states, her voice trembling slightly as she holds in a laugh; he laughs for her. "Seriously, we are." She tells him, stepping out of their embrace to brace herself against the cool surface of the countertop, cooling down her sweaty palms; her flushed cheeks._

_He leans against the door, giving her the space she needs. She starts talking again. "We've got issues."_

"_We can work through them." He tries to convince her. She gives a dry laugh._

"_With Nate?" She asks wryly._

"_Not necessarily."_

"_So…with a stranger? Who'll have to listen to an abridged story, since most of our issues are somewhat confidential or top-secret?"_

"_What do you want, Kensi?" He sighs, choosing the safer route._

"_I don't know!" She cries, frustrated. He walks towards her, gently steering her into one of the chairs._

"_Kensi," He speaks her name to get her attention. She maintains eye contact with him as he goes on. "Do you want to be with me?" He speaks each word slowly, clearly. This requires no thought; her response is immediate._

"_Yes. But-" He cuts her off._

"_-No buts. That's it; just a yes. Everything else can wait." She's overwhelmed by all of this; first he wants to marry her, then he's patient when she shoots him down. Really, it's just too much for a girl to handle on an empty stomach._

_He smiles, just a small, understanding smile as he lets her get up on her feet and focus on dinner. He leans against another side of the kitchen counter, silently watching her._

"_Eventually." She says out of nowhere, her face-and therefore, her emotions- still out of his sight. He pins a quizzical gaze on her. "I'll marry you…eventually." She clarifies, busying herself with the task of emptying the contents of the cartons into serving dishes._

"_And the issues?" He presses gently, taking out the necessary cutlery for their dinner. She finishes her task and turns to face him._

"_We'll work through them, privately. Who else knows us better than us, right?" She says nonchalantly._

_He's grinning now, she realizes. He's happy, and she's responsible for it. Just that single thought cheers her up._

"_So you'll marry me?"_

_She gives this a moment's thought._

"_Ask me in a few months."_

"_And you'll say yes?" He wants to know. She smiles at him, knowing that he knows her answer will be positive. And so she tells him the truth._

"_Eventually."_

* * *

It's dinnertime and I know Kensi's waiting for me with some semblance of a proper meal. She's told me that it's take-out for the night; she doesn't feel so well and I won't be home in time to make us something.

I look around the empty space. She'd left during lunchtime, pleading a bad headache. Eric and Nate had gone home an hour before; Sam just left a few minutes ago.

Hetty's probably in her office; I'm counting on her to be there, and thankfully, she is.

"Ah, Mr. Callen!" She says in that endearing way of hers. "Just the man I was looking for. How is Ms. Blye?" I feel the corner of my lips curve in a slight smile; Hetty never did refer to her as Mrs. Callen. She said it would be too confusing, and besides, she preferred to keep our personal matters separate from the job.

"She's better," I tell her truthfully; I'd called back half an hour ago. "She's downed a couple Aspirin and napped for a while."

"Ah," Hetty nods thoughtfully. "The poor dear is stressing herself. You're not helping matters, obviously." She shoots me a disapproving look.

Hetty is the only one who knows the real truth; she's the only one who knows why I'm hurting Kensi this way.

And she doesn't agree.

Of course, she respects me too much to betray my trust, but she's constantly trying to get me to change my mind. _There is always more than one option, Mr. Callen. No situation leads you to an inevitable path; instead, it presents you with a crossroads._

Hetty thinks I should tell everyone the truth and then sit around waiting for all of them to die along with me. She left out the second part of the sentence, of course.

"You know why I'm doing this, Hetty." I tell her for what seems to be the millionth time.

"It doesn't mean that I have to agree, Callen." She says curtly, dropping the 'Mr.' that she usually uses to refer to me. "Now, here's what you requested." She hands me a file with a new alias; another integral part of my plan.

"Mr. John Robinson, originally from Texas. Left home at the age of 16 and never looked back. Now works as a bodyguard, currently working for one Ms. Sarah Michele, a lawyer who finds Southerners extremely irresistible." Her voice is clouded with disdain as she gives me my new identity.

"And why am I undercover?" I test her once again.

"Ms. Michele now finds herself tied to certain…contacts we would like to bring in." She feeds me the same story I had concocted, the one that would keep Kensi safe.

"I hope you know what you are doing, Mr. Callen." Hetty eyes me carefully, trying, once again, to contest my decision.

"It's the only way to keep her safe, Hetty." I sigh. "If she hates me, and I'm in an affair," I wince at the word, the mere thought of it disgusting me. "They won't have any reason to go after her."

"Very well."

With those words, I am dismissed. I head back to my desk, flipping open the file as I walked. Inside, there's a picture of Sarah Michele.

I observe her as I pick up my stuff, ready to seal away the file somewhere Kensi won't be able to get to.

Sarah is blond, with green-eyes. She's from a well-off family, a third-generation lawyer. Graduate of Harvard Law School, interned at some top-shot law firm before even going to law school, made partner by the age of 30…

As I memorize these statistics, only one thought runs through my mind continuously. The only thought that matters.

_She's not Kensi._

* * *

Everyone has issues.

_Eventually_, Kensi and I worked through mine. We got engaged, married; we built a life together. But somehow, these issues have a knack for following you. Somehow, they trail after you. They come back for you.

Kensi and I worked through our issues. But when tragedy hit us, the pain of it all dredged all these ugly issues back up. And when I put my plan in motion, these issues raged, full-force.

And right now, these issues are the only thing that will keep Kensi away from me…and safe.

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Chapter Two down! Please note that I finished this chapter before posting the first, so the only feedback I have to go on right now is that from the prologue. Thanks so much for all the reviews and favs and alerts – it's always nice to know that you're doing something right, because otherwise, why would so many people like this?

**Okay, now I'm babbling.**

**As usual, review or PM me if you'd like to!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	4. Chapter 3

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Three : Out of Sight…And Mind?**

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Kensi's P.O.V

_Out of sight, out of mind._

In our relationship, we're constantly working to prove this old saying wrong. After all, the alternative would be to admit that all those undercover ops had successfully pushed each other out of our minds.

Time after time, we remind each other that there's no one else; it's only work. We come home at the end of the day and we prove to the other just how in love we are with them. We wake up in the morning and we share our gratitude over the fact that we're together.

But someday, I know that these six words will prove true. Someday, when I'm out of his sight, I might just be out of his mind.

* * *

It's Thursday.

It's Thursday, and he's going undercover for the next week, after giving me only two days' notice. Maybe, before all of this, I would have been upset, and anxious, and really, really moody. But after all that we've been through these past few months, it doesn't seem worth it to get all worked up over something this trivial.

Everyone's waiting for us upstairs, where Eric will run through the case one last time before he leaves. Not that he needs to – the details are imprinted in my mind, indelible.

Mr. John Robinson, from Texas, bodyguard to one Sarah Michele, a lawyer with brains and beauty, not to mention lots and lots of money. Did I mention the part where she's sure to fall for _my _husband?

Yeah.

He'd waited for me to be in a neutral mood – I'm never in a good mood anymore – before telling me about this case, knowing that I would be sensitive after what had happened the last time. I'd swallowed all my emotions, plastered a smile on my face and said, "Do what you have to."

Even he had expressed shock at this. After all, it's not every day that your wife basically says, 'Go ahead, do what you have to do, as long as she believes you're falling for her too.' It's this seal of approval, one with no limits, one which says, 'Don't blow your cover. Do all that is necessary. Do not, under any circumstances, compromise your identity.'

Of course, last year's Kensi would have said, 'Just tell her the truth. Tell her you're her bodyguard-slash-NCIS Agent, who's here to protect her and bring in the bad guys, no more, no less. Tell her that you're married, that you have a wife you're crazy in love with.'

But this Kensi, the new Kensi who's suffered through more pain than anyone should be asked to endure- she doesn't care anymore.

Actually, that's a lie.

She cares; _I_ care. I feel like shouting; like pleading him to _not _go, because after the last time, this would surely drive me crazy. Because if he does again what he did to me then, I would reach a breaking point no one should ever have to hit.

If he betrays me; if he turns his back on our vows one more time, I might just walk.

* * *

"_G, here!" _

_Sam's calling to him, he realizes as he walks towards the conveyer belt where everyone is jostling each other to get a better view of their luggage._

"_Hey." He smiles, glad to see a familiar face after months of undercover operations with no one alongside him. They do that weird man-hug that no woman will ever understand as his eyes search for the one familiar face he's _really _desperate to see. Sam steps out of their loose hug and notices his glance._

"_Kenz wasn't feeling well." He says apologetically, knowing that Callen is bound to be disappointed. Callen's smile drops off his face but he quickly brushes aside his feelings, worry for Kensi now dominating his mind._

"_Is she okay? Was it a case? I swear, if another suspect hurt her…" He growls as Sam spotted his luggage and easily plucks it out of the belt. Sam laughs._

"_Overprotective much, G?" He teases as Callen picks up his bag and they start walking out. "It's just a headache, though Hetty thinks it's also a case of heartache."_

_Callen's heart warms up at the thought of Kensi missing him as much as he missed her. "Hetty's always thinking something." He tells Sam, unwilling to display his emotions._

"_Now that is right." Sam walks out before Callen and he expects Sam to look for the car. Instead, he turns around to face Callen. "Well, my shift's over. See you Monday." He walks away._

_Callen is just about to call after Sam and demand an explanation when a pair of hands wrap around his face, blocking his vision. "Miss me?" She whispers in his ear and he catches on immediately to what Sam had been saying._

_He gently pulls aside her hands and turns around to face one Kensi Blye, operative extraordinaire and most importantly, his girlfriend. "The real question," He tells her, unable to keep his grin off his face. "Is whether _you _missed _me_?"_

_She pouts playfully, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, be that way." Kensi stalks off towards her car, leaving him gaping after her. He quickly picks up his luggage and runs after her._

"_Of course I did," He tells her, an answer to her question. He wraps his free hand around her waist, pulling her close to him. "I missed you so much, I almost blew my cover."_

_She gasps at this and wrenches his hand away, turning around to face him. "Are you insane? That was a huge op, Callen. It would have been a huge waste-"_

_He cuts off her rant by pulling her close and pressing his lips against hers, molding her against him as people alter their courses to avoid bumping into them, grumbling about shameless people who aren't considerate enough to even think about others. She moans before pulling back, her accelerated heart rate causing her breathing to become heavy._

"_That was just sneaky." She informs him, smiling nonetheless as his arm once again comes around her waist, allowing her to lead him to the car._

"_But so worth it." He grins and she smiles._

"_Definitely," She agrees, and after a moment's thought adds in her next words. "I missed you too."_

_They reach the car and he fits his luggage into the trunk as she slides into the driver's seat. He gives up without a fight and gets into the passenger seat next to her, revealing just how tired he really is. She starts the engine and pulls out of the lot as he puts on his seatbelt, a comfortable silence reigning over them._

_As she drives past colorful stores and streets, filled with locals and tourists alike – it's a nice day – he turns to face her, his gaze contemplative. She stops at a red light and looks at him, smiling slightly as she waits for him to speak._

_Finally, he forms a sentence. "I'm never going undercover for that long without you again." He decides, something the old, pre-Kensi G Callen would never have said. The old pre-Callen Kensi Blye might have freaked out at this, but this Kensi laughs and nods._

"_Never," She agrees. "Though we might have to give it some thought if we can go undercover together."_

_They drive in contemplative silence until he realizes that the route they're on isn't one to his, or her, place. "Hey, Kenz?" He speaks up, curious._

"_Hmm?" She hums distractedly, focused on the road._

"_Where are we going?"_

_She gives this a moment's thought before speaking up. "The beach."_

_He smiles – she knows him well. Well enough to know that after months away, he'd like nothing more than to drive along the beach with her._

_And so she takes the long way home, driving along the beach as they talk about his operation and her new cases. Finally, as the sun sets, she turns to the main road that will take them home._

"_I missed you a lot." She says out of nowhere, an echo of her previous words._

"_Me too." He grins, still unaware of her thoughts._

"_And I had some time to think." She tells him as she turns the last corner to her place. It's an unspoken agreement that he'll be spending the weekend there – after all, he's all but officially moved in._

"_About?" He prompts her after a moment of silence. They're arrived and so she kills the engine, takes off her sunglasses. She releases her seatbelt and he does the same as she turns around to face him._

"_Us." She states, her earnest gaze pinned on him. He can see that she's not done yet, and so he doesn't speak up, afraid she might leave the sentence incomplete if interrupted._

"_And that led me to think about everything, and how everyone's been with us, and those issues we talked about…"As she rambles, his face lights up in a grin, her last words a clue to what she's about to say. She sucks in a sharp breath, her next words the key to their happily ever after._

"_Ask me." She doesn't even need to clarify her words; he knows exactly what she means. And so he pulls out the little velvet box he's kept with him for months, the one he'd snatched out of his carry-on the minute they'd landed, pops the lid open to reveal a simple engagement ring he knows she'll love. He levels his gaze with hers, showing her just how nervous and happy he is._

"_Marry me, Kensi Blye?" He turns the last word, her surname, into a question, asking her just as she had asked him to._

_A grin breaks out on her face; her eyes light up as she nods. Her answer is affirmative, unwavering; one filled with conviction. It leaves no room for doubt or questioning._

"_Of course, G Callen."_

* * *

I gently blow on my steaming cup of coffee, trying to speed up the cooling process. The shrill ringing of my phone nearly causes me to jump and spill the steaming liquid all over me, but luckily I keep my cool and place the cup on the kitchen counter instead.

As I pull out my phone from my handbag which rests on the kitchen isle, I sneak a glance at the caller ID. _Callen_, it reads. A smile graces my features, an automatic reflex even though my heart doesn't jump the way it used to and my stomach isn't fluttering, not with butterflies and certainly not with a baby. This last thought causes my curved lips to straighten out, and it takes all of my strength to keep my lips from trembling.

"Hey." I pick up a moment too late; he's probably worried by now.

"_Hey. Everything alright?" _

Yeah, definitely worried. "Sure. I was in the kitchen." Technically, this isn't a lie. I _was_ in the kitchen. I'd just omitted the part where I'm _still_ in the kitchen. My conscience causes me to make my way to the living room as I speak these words. I sink down on the couch, my limbs tired from chasing a suspect earlier today.

"_Oh." _It takes a moment for him to think of something and I feel a pang as I think to myself, _we never had awkward silences before this._

"_How was work?"_

He's making small talk. From this, I gather that he's probably 'at home', the pool house Sarah Michele has graciously offered him.

"The usual. Sam got bitch-slapped by a female suspect while I chased down the guy." This earns me a dry laugh, a welcome reprieve from the awkwardness.

"_Why is it that I always miss the good days?"_

"Because you're always undercover." I speak without thought; unfiltered words. My heart plummets as I think of the implications of my words. The awkward silence returns.

"You should probably get some sleep. I know I could use some." I tell him after a beat.

"_Yeah. Long day and all." _His speech is stilted; he's uncertain of his words.

"Mmm-hmm…" I hum, picking at the loose threads of the blanket I usually drape over the arm of the couch. He senses that he's lost my attention, and so he speaks up.

"_Hey, Kenz?"_

"Hmm?" I hum in a questioning lilt, letting him know that I'm still on the line.

"_Love you."_

The tears come hard and fast; they almost escape me as I focus on my trembling lips. I choke back a sob; is he lying? Is he trying to prove that I'm still on his mind, in his thoughts? Is he trying to avoid another incident?

Will this turn out like the last time?

He's waiting for an answer; and so I give him one that comes just a moment too late; one that I'm not entirely convinced in. I make my way back into the kitchen.

"Love you too."

He's smiling as he cuts the line; I'm sure of _that_. I recklessly throw my phone on the kitchen table; the mere sight of my cup of coffee is now revolting. I wander into the bathroom, deciding that I can afford to have a bath; after all, it's not like there's anything good on TV at this time.

My mind is screaming at me: _Are you crazy? Or just masochistic? Do you _want_ to torture yourself?_

I ignore myself; fill up the tub, pour in some lavender-scented body wash, trade my clothes for a fluffy robe and clip my hair out of my face. As I wait for the tub to fill, I re-enter the kitchen to retrieve my phone and force myself to have a few sips of coffee; no sense in wasting a perfectly good cup. Going back to the bathroom, I place my phone on a shelf, prepared for the possibility of being called in to work a case.

The tub hasn't filled; I straighten out the magazines spread on the coffee table, neatly fold up the blanket from before. I sigh heavily when I realize there's nothing left for me to do – time to face my demons.

I shut the door behind me, hang up my robe on a hook and make sure that my hair isn't going to fall out of the twist anytime soon.

I breathe deeply, preparing myself for what awaits me. Then I slip into the water and let my thoughts run rampant through my mind.

It's gonna be a _long _night.

_

* * *

_

Out of sight, out of mind.

Whoever came up with this saying would've had their butt kicked by me a million times. Sam had once jokingly thrown out this pearl of wisdom before Callen had left for his long undercover op, the one which had convinced me of the fact that I couldn't live without him.

Let me tell you, it wasn't a pretty sight. I'd pretty much blown up at him, using my mood swings as an excuse for my behavior afterwards.

"Damn it, Sam," I'd yelled at him, astonishing our entire team, Hetty included. "Are you _trying _to piss me off? Because I'm in a really bad mood, and you just gave me a perfect excuse to hit someone."

Callen had pulled me aside; away from prying eyes. He'd talked to me; promised that out of sight didn't necessarily mean out of mind, that it most definitely did not mean that to him.

I'd trusted him then; I'd always trusted him. Callen's word was sacred, an unbreakable oath. My faith in him had been so strong; it had shocked all of us.

I had always trusted him. Since Day One, I had entrusted my life to him, and he had entrusted his to mine. Of course, we'd both done the same for Sam, but there had always been something different between the two of us. And he hadn't been kidding – I really was his favorite agent.

Now though, my trust in him had been shaken. _The last time_ had hurt me so much, had bruised my faith. And right now, I'm just not sure what to believe in anymore.

Because _the last time,_ I'd been out of his sight…and mind.

**

* * *

**

Chapter Three and score two points for me: I've been updating daily since the prologue, and this chapter actually is where the prologue came from. Hope this fits as well as it does in my mind.

**Shout-out to evershort, whose reviews are a constant joy to me and who's one of my fav CaKe authors!**

**As always, feel free to review or PM me…you guys really keep me going, and your input helps me more than you think.**

**P.S, the next chapter should be in Callen's P.O.V, but I've decided that there's more for me to write in Kensi's P.O.V, to really let you guys know how she's feeling and all. And Chapter Five will be in her P.O.V too, so you won't be reading Callen until the sixth chapter. Hopefully, you guys will understand when you're reading Chapter Four!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	5. Chapter 4

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Four : Dark Future**

_**

* * *

**_

Kensi's P.O.V

The future is something none of us really understand.

In the blink of an eye, your perfect, bright future can turn bleak. In the blink of an eye, you can lose everything, even everyone. In the blink of an eye, you can find yourself facing a dark future.

* * *

Third day undercover and they're already on a date.

A _dinner_ date.

G's got a microphone discreetly clipped onto his jacket, which doubles as a camera, though that's not turned on. Eric has access to the CCTVs though, so that's fine.

We expect our guys to show up tonight, since this is the loosest setting Sarah's been in all week. The restaurant's security is lax, and she's dismissed her other bodyguards and the likes since she's on a _date_. With Callen. Who just happens to be my husband.

Did I mention that we're watching their date right now, live? And he's flirting with her?

Of course, that's only because she started flirting first. And he _does_ have to make her believe him. The final goal is for her to trust him enough to let him into her main house, where he'll have full access to anything we might need.

But he doesn't need to flirt _that_ much, I note scornfully. It's just their first date, for God's sake!

"They're on the move," Sam declares from his spot near the kitchen; he's undercover as a waiter. And I'm here, at OPS, because…well, Hetty thinks it's best for me to be here. Not to mention the fact that I came in a little pale today.

"Alright, accessing outdoor footage." Eric mutters as he taps away on his keyboard, working his magic. Nate is hovering over me, having a field day with my reactions. It's always been his favorite past-time: analyze the person while their spouse is undercover on a romantic engagement.

I swear, Nate has some _major _issues.

I clear my head as Hetty levels her gaze on me and force myself to focus. Sarah's driver is pulling up in her limo, and Callen is ushering her in. He shoots Sam one last glance, looks into the camera above him, somehow looking at me.

I can't help but notice that he looks awfully…_guilty_.

I brush these thoughts aside, unwilling to let myself appear as the over-bearing, possessive, jealous wife. Sam's microphone crackles to life as I watch the visual of _them _driving away.

"G's turned off his audio," He informs us, albeit unnecessarily as we've all noticed this by now.

"I believe we are aware of this, Mr. Hanna. Turn in your uniform and head back to OPS immediately." Hetty orders.

"The rest of you can have five minutes to yourself as Mr. Callen seems to be in need of some…_personal _time." Disgust drips from her voice. This brings back all my worries and doubts.

As Nate walks out, I re-arrange a few files I'd been using. I start to walk out, in need of a doughnut, but Hetty stops me.

"Kensi," I stop immediately – she's using my first name, and _that_ can't be good. "A minute, please." I nod and trail after her as she directs us to her office.

I sit down when she motions for me to do so. I watch as Hetty pours us some tea; I'm about to object, but then I realize that my stomach isn't feeling well and so I gratefully accept the warm teacup.

"So, Hetty…" I start after a minute of silence.

"You're jealous." She states, maintaining eye contact with me. I sigh; not only is it useless to lie to Hetty, it's also sort of mean. Don't get me wrong – I understand that she's still like, this totally kick-ass ninja, but somehow, it's like lying to your grandma. Mean.

"A little." I admit, a frown tugging at my lips.

"Well, it is quite unsettling to see Mr. Callen in an environment like this…" She trails off; not even Hetty is willing to bring up the last time.

"After Rebecca Bryans." I finish for her, though I'm wincing on the inside. Hetty nods; she's about to speak when Nate appears.

"Eric says Callen is about to reach Sarah's place and he's accessed her property's cameras. Eric, not Callen. And Sarah's property." He feels the unnecessary need to clarify the obvious, but stops rambling when Hetty pins him with a glare.

Nate nods slowly, his eyes uncomfortable. "Right. We should probably get back?" He suggests. Hetty gets up and I imitate her, ready to leave this conversation behind us.

When we get back to 'Eric's lair' as I've heard him refer to it a couple of times, Sam and Eric are already reviewing the live footage. My heart clenches as I spot Callen with his arm around Sarah's waist.

_It's going to be just like the last time._

This thought flashes through my mind so quickly I almost miss it. It's not a thought of my own, and it's not from the cynical voice which sometimes takes residence in my head, so that leaves me with no clue as to where this…negative thought comes from.

Callen's turned his microphone back on; they're talking now as he walks her to her front door.

"I had a great time," Sarah gushes like a school-girl and I fight hard to keep the disgust I'm feeling off my face as Nate turns to analyze me again. Instead, I shoot him a glare and focus on the screen. He shrugs and turns to the screen too.

"Me too," He smiles as they walk up the steps to her front door. Sarah fishes out her keys but makes no move to go in. "I should probably get back." Callen says, tilting his head in the general direction of the pool house.

"Probably. But what if I don't want you too?" Sarah flirts. I resist the urge to gag as my stomach acts up. Too late, I realize that I haven't had anything to eat today. I didn't even touch Hetty's tea.

"Then I won't." Callen says as he leans in to her, somehow managing to switch off his microphone as he does, judging by the lack of background sound.

My feet gear up to run. I know what's about to happen next, but somehow, I can't tear my eyes away from the screen. I can't give up until I see it for my own eyes. See him betray me.

This is totally in-line with my theory of me being masochistic, by the way.

Sarah leans against her front door, her back towards it. As Callen braces his hands against the door on either side of her and moves to close the distance between them, her eyes flutter shut.

The moment their lips connect, I turn away and lean my hands on the table, my back towards the screen. My heart is pounding in my ears, and yet I force myself to check, one last time, if this is really happening.

It is.

Somehow, he's gotten the keys from her and is opening the door, letting both of them tumble in without breaking apart from their lip-lock.

My heart pounds, my head hurts and I just can't take this anymore as my stomach fills with nausea. Wordlessly, I clap a hand over my mouth and head out, towards the bathroom. Midway, I start to run as the urge to gag becomes stronger.

I rush into the bathroom, head into a stall and lock it behind me before falling to my knees, facing the toilet bowl. I brace my hands against the cool surface of the rim as I start to heave up my stomach's contents.

Tearfully, I empty my stomach – and my heart – into the bowl.

* * *

"_Kensi? You here?"_

_She hears the slam of the door behind him, the shuffle of his feet as he makes his way through the living room._

"_I'm here." She croaks weakly, knowing all the while that he won't be able to hear her. So she flushes the toilet bowl in an effort to make enough noise for him to find her in the bathroom, slumped against the wall, pale and nauseated._

_He walks into the bedroom, and noticing the open door, enters the bathroom to find her sprawled on the floor, limp. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asks worriedly, tenderly brushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear._

_She's about to answer him, but then the nausea returns and she pushes him aside to retch into the toilet bowl, her bid to empty her stomach unsuccessful as there is nothing left for her to get rid of._

_He pulls back her hair and rubs soothing circles on her back until she leans back against him, spent. "This happened." She whispers, her voice dry. Tear stains streak her pale face as sweat begins to break out on her forehead. He flushes the toilet once again, pulls the lid down and sets her against it. _

_She watches as he grabs a washcloth and runs it under some water, then wrings it out. He then approaches her with the damp cloth and slowly uses it to press against her forehead, her cheeks, running it down her face. The sensation of the cool cloth against her flushed skin feels better than her alternative of pressing her forehead against the cool marble tiles of the wall, and so she lets him fix her up in silence, gathering her thoughts and processing all that has happened._

"_You didn't tell me you weren't feeling well." He chides, his voice a gentle murmur._

"_Didn't think it was anything." She mumbles weakly. He moves away and throws the cloth into the small hamper they keep nearby as she slowly makes her way to the sink to rinse out her mouth, ridding herself of the nauseating taste of vomit._

"_You never think it's anything. I'm making you see a doctor tomorrow." He informs her as she staggers out of the bathroom, barely making it to the bed before she has to sit down. _

"_I'm fine, G. I just need to rest, get lots of liquids and some food in my system." She states, unwilling to share her theory just yet. She's still waiting, and she wouldn't want to disappoint both of them if she's wrong. They're approaching their second anniversary now, and until yesterday, Kensi hadn't really thought about having kids._

_Sure, she's love to have mini-Callens around, but their jobs are just too unstable, so they've never really made an effort to get pregnant. Callen had once said, 'If it happens, it happens', and so she'd taken that to heart._

"_That's exactly what the doctor would have told you." He smiles, sitting down next to her on the bed. "I bought take-out." He offers as she leans into him._

"_That sounds good," She says weakly, her voice slightly muffled. She sneaks a glance at the alarm clock next to the bed. It's been long enough. Time to check her future. "Hey, can you get me a glass of water first?" She asks, an excuse to get him out of the room while she checks on the 6 tests she has waiting for her in the bathroom._

_He nods, slowly standing up, checking to make sure that she's sitting still. "Be right back," he assures her, dropping a light kiss on her forehead. She smiles as he walks out, but scurries into the bathroom as soon as she's sure he's away._

_He walks into the kitchen, pushing aside the boxes of take-out as he pulls out a glass and fills it up, his thoughts revolving around Kensi. It's Friday, and so she has the weekend to rest, at least. This comforts him a little, but he knows he'll probably take her to the doctor's anyway tomorrow, if only to reassure himself._

_He turns off the tap and makes his way back to the bedroom. He sets the glass on the nightstand when he realizes that she's not on the bed. He hears a feminine squeak and follows it to the bathroom, where he finds her once again sitting on the lid of the toilet bowl, her eyes shining with tears. He rushes to her._

"_Kenz, are you okay?" He gently holds her arm. "Are you in pain? Come on, I'll bring you to the hospital right-"_

_He stops mid-speech as he notices her fiddling with a pen-like object. "I'm fine," She says slowly, speaking up when she notices his silence. She takes one last, long look at the thing before setting it down in her lap, looking up to face him. "I'm fine." She says again, clearly. She starts to smile as she looks him straight in the eye._

"_It's just…how would you like to have a mini-Callen?"_

_It takes him a few moments to comprehend her words, but when he does, he smile brightens up his whole face._

_Just like this pregnancy had brightened up their entire future._

* * *

Hetty doesn't even need to send me home; after washing up, I head straight to my desk for my keys and bag, and from there I just drive out, staying in my own little reality without bidding anyone goodnight.

In hindsight, that's probably really irresponsible of me – they might get worried. But my phone's not ringing, and so I take that to mean that they understand I simply need some time and space right now.

I pull out of the building and slow down, deliberately taking some time to assess my situation, and my emotions. Right now I'm still angry – the fact that I've probably lost Callen for good hasn't really sunk in yet. All I know is that I'm pissed. And disappointed.

I start driving just for the sake of feeling like I have a purpose while my mind runs through safe harbors for me. I think about driving to the beach, but I can't. There are so many memories there; it's just another thing he's taken away from me.

He's taken away my safe place, my trust, my happy life, my future- heck, I'm even going to blame him for our baby because God knows that if he had only been focused on me and not Rebecca Bryans, we might not be in this rut today.

At this, I take in a deep breath and slow down the car; I've been driving aimlessly for the last 20 minutes, I realize. I'm not being fair; the baby was an accident, and not his fault. My anger and disappointment is making me irrational.

I look around to find out where I am. It turns out I'm just minutes away from my old place, which I'd kept even after moving into the house. I hadn't had the heart to part with it, this little place where I'd lived for countless years as a single agent, then someone in love, and finally as a wife, and then as a future mother.

Callen used to joke that it was going to be my escape route after the baby; he and Sam said that when I started to threaten physical harm due to my lack of sleep, they'd pack me up and send me here, just to keep the baby safe.

As I park and make my way in, I realize that I don't feel the little pang in my heart that I usually associate with these thoughts of loss and betrayal.

Right now, even thoughts of the baby and Callen can't help me. I'm not angry, or sad, or disappointed. I'm just numb. I've accepted reality – I'm alone. I've lost my baby, and my husband. And so, I just want to go home; to go back to a time when I had been alone and yet content.

They say you can't miss what you don't have.

But I'm starting to find that you can miss what you no longer have.

* * *

Arthur Wing Pinero once said, _I believe the future is only the past again, entered through another gate._

When I had finally allowed Callen to break down my walls and work through my issues, I had been hoping for a better future.

When I had finally married him, I had thought that I'd successfully left my past behind me; ditched those days of loneliness and self-doubt.

When I had found out about my pregnancy, I'd started seeing a new future; a bright future where I could have everything I'd ever needed.

Slowly though, I had been making my way back to my past, though I had somehow missed this.

Losing my baby had been the first step backwards; I'd lost any bright future I'd dreamed off.

Rebecca Bryans had pushed me back to my old self, the one who couldn't, for the life of her, trust someone else.

And now, I'd lost everything, only to find myself back at square one: I'm alone in this world, with no real family to speak of, no sense of trust, and no love.

My bright future has taken in its stride shades of navy, grey and black.

And now, all I'm left with is a dark future, one I cannot possibly hope to change, because my dark future is my past, and no matter what I do, it seems that I'm just going back to that.

**

* * *

**

This one's a little tricky, need you guys to let me know what you're thinking. Actually, the third chapter was kinda tricky too, but this one, by far, overshadows that one.

**Next chapter we straighten things out. It's gonna be a long, long chapter full of thoughts and bla bla bla, but I really feel it's necessary for this story because after all that Kensi's gone through, past and present (you guys still don't know how this started), I feel it's time for her to really go through all this and re-evaluate her life and make some choices. In fact, I'll give you guys a little spoiler- the chapter title is **_**Decisions, Decisions.**_

**Really didn't know how to end this chapter, you know the usual contemplative bit I always end with? So I decided to work with the quote, which I'd heard a long time ago and which I really love. I also wanted to let you guys understand how Kensi feels like she's back to where she started out, with nothing and no one.**

**I'm rambling.**

_**No shit, Sherlock.**_

**Damn in, that little cynical voice in my head is talking again. Before I go completely nuts, time to end this note. Remember, review or PM me if you'd like to!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	6. Chapter 5

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Five : Decisions, Decisions**

_**

* * *

**_

Kensi's P.O.V

Life is made up of the little things, the little decisions you make as you go.

For instance, you could choose between a breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs or fruits. Stick to this little decision every day and you'll realize that this small choice might just cut years off your life, if you stick to the bacon and scrambled eggs, and not the fruits.

You might not realize it now, but all those choices, all those small decisions?

Someday, they'll lead you to big decisions that might just save you…or destroy you.

* * *

I wake up to the crying wind and rumbling thunder, sheets of rain pelting the windows.

Getting up, I pad, barefoot, to the bathroom to wash up. As I spot my reflection in the mirror, it all comes back to me as I take in the sight of my tear-stained cheeks and puffy red eyes.

I'd cried myself to sleep last night…because of what I had seen Callen doing. Because somehow, my future had turned out to be a more painful version of my past. Shaking these thoughts away from my head, determined to at least _start_ the day without any more pain, I finish cleaning myself up and walk towards the bed, checking the nightstand for my phone and the alarm clock.

It's then that I realize it's only 4 in the morning. I'd barely slept for more than 3 hours, but that had been more than enough for me to enter REM and live through my nightmares. I check my phone for texts and missed calls- there's a text from Sam. He wrote:

_Kensi, I know this was a lot for you to take in, but it's not the truth. You'll probably want the day off, but I'll swing by during lunch to tell you what's really going on. Hang in there, Kenz. –Sam._

His words confuse me. Actually, everything's confusing me right now, but that's probably because I'm sleep-deprived.

I risk a glance outside; the storm rages on. There's no way I'm going to risk driving in this weather; I may be heartbroken, but I'm not suicidal. He's just another guy, I keep telling myself.

_Just another guy you'd married and almost started a family with._

Once again, my mind speaks up. Not that I care; I've gotten really good at ignoring myself over the years. I make my way to the kitchen; it's not like I'm going to fall asleep again. Flicking on light switches as I go, I find myself relieved that the power is still on.

Funny that I should be thinking about these small things when my entire life is falling apart around me; Nate would _definitely _have something to say about this. As if I even care anymore.

I pull open cupboards, trying to recall whether I'd left any food here. I'm pretty sure there should be a bag of chips somewhere…

"Aha!" I cry out triumphantly as the last cupboard reveals a large bag of Doritos. I rip it open while pulling out a chair to sit in. My brain might be functioning quite well, but my body's exhausted. It's telling me, _Stop it, just sit down for a while and stop all this strong lady crap. Just sit down and stop thinking for a minute or ten, until I can catch up to you. _

_You're way too slow, _my brain retorts coldly. _I'm already past the crash-and-burn stage. Time to do some serious thinking and make some choices._

"Shut up!" I cry exasperatedly to both of them, stuffing myself with the chips. The twin voices inside me quiet down as I pad to the living room and sink into the couch.

In the dead silence, I admit to myself that my brain does have a point: now isn't the time to rest. Now, I have to think; think and process all that has happened. Not just yesterday's events, but _really _think of the baby, the case…my marriage.

Do I still want this?

Of course, I'll always love him. There's no way I'd be able to move on, to just forget my feelings for him. What we share runs much deeper than that; no one would be able to move on from what we have.

But now I wonder, would it be safer for _me_ to just love him from afar? Would it be safer for _me _to just leave, to let him do what he needs to? Would it be safer for _me_ to just give up, to live out the rest of my future in the past, alone and content in knowing that I had once had the great romance everyone dreams of?

Unfortunately, I don't seem to have a choice.

Because, you see, love is about more than just one person. Love means that you don't do what's safer for you- instead, you look out for the other person, you guard them with your life. So it's never really been about what's safer for me- all I want is for him to be content.

It takes me hours to reach this decision; I've been fighting with myself over and over as self-preservation keeps me from putting my heart on the line. I've lived most of my life looking out for no one but myself. Then I joined this team and started taking care of the others, and that in itself was hard. But now, to protect someone else – someone I love - at the risk of hurting myself…it goes against any and all of my instincts to keep myself safe.

When I finally emerge from my thoughts, the rain's stopped; the sun's up. It's as if my mind has some sort of pull over the weather…but then again, that's ridiculous.

I clean up after myself; make it seem as if I had never been here at all. I close the door behind me; leaving behind all of those conflicting emotions and thoughts. Then, walking to my car, I check to make sure it's a decent hour and call Sam.

"Hey Sam? Yeah, good morning to you too. You know what, why don't we meet up for lunch and you can tell me everything…"

* * *

"_Hey Kensi, you won't believe this!"_

_This is how Sam greets her one morning as she walks in, her face pale as she's still going through morning sickness. "What?" She snaps hoarsely, though not on purpose- her throat's just killing her right now. Try spending the better half of your night regurgitating every single solid food you haven't digested- being pregnant is no joke._

_Her dry voice doesn't dampen Sam's mood; his grin grows wider. "Eric has a sore throat."_

"_So? I do, too." She grumbles, setting her bag down on her cluttered table which she eyes with distaste. She really does have to start getting ahead on all of her paperwork…though there'll be enough of that when she's on desk duty. This thought causes her to shudder as Sam leans against her desk; she sits down weakly, her limbs sore from hours of crouching in front of the toilet bowl._

"_You poor thing!" Sam exclaims in a high voice, doing his best 'mother' impersonation. "But don't you see, Kenz?" His voice goes back to normal again as he slowly explains the implications of Eric's sore throat._

"_No more whistling!"_

"_I guess that's a good thing," Kensi concedes after a moment's thought. "But it's really no fun, having your throat kill you." She informs Sam as he looks around for someone._

"_Where's G?" He asks her, walking back to his desk._

"_He told me he's coming in early," Kensi says, taken aback. "He wanted to go through the Bryans case one more time before he goes undercover."_

"_Well, where is he?" Sam looks around as if expecting said agent to materialize out of thin air any moment._

_Kensi shrugs. "Maybe he's with Hetty."_

_Just then, the elderly woman appears, having missed nothing, as usual. "I can assure you, Miss Blye, that I haven't seen Mr. Callen yet today." She pauses for a moment, contemplating a few thoughts. Sam and Kensi stare at her blankly, waiting for her to add something to their conversation._

"_Do I pay you two to stare at me?" Hetty demands. "Chop chop, Eric's waiting for you with a new case. I offered to come down as he is, most unfortunately, suffering from a sore throat." Hetty's tone suggests that she finds this most fortunate, and not the other way around._

_Sam and Kensi share a look before rushing upstairs, though Kensi takes extra caution when climbing up the stairs, having heard stories of pregnant women tripping over the stairs all too often._

_Sadly, what Kensi doesn't know is that accidents only happen when you least expect them._

* * *

I unlock the front door and slowly walk in. There's always a chance that he'd feel guilty and cut short the operation to come home and apologize.

He hasn't.

I'm not sure whether I'm relieved, or disappointed, but I'm past the point of caring. Shutting the door behind me, I wander aimlessly around the house, taking in every picture, every memory. Pictures aren't the only things you can link memories to; I look at the TV and I remember movie nights and bad sitcoms I'd watch alone when he was undercover. I look at the orchids placed around the room and I remember our anniversary, the first time we'd celebrated in this house. I remember the look on his face as I walked in only to find orchids _everywhere_, their sweet scent permeating the air.

"_You're not really a roses kind of girl, and it would have been weird to carry a pot of orchids to the office to surprise you."_

Trying to get rid of these thoughts, I pick up the phone and call for take-out, being very careful with my order. I haven't been feeling so well lately. My stomach's constantly acting up, though this might be because of what's been happening recently. Nevertheless, I'd made a stop at the pharmacy during the drive home. Hopefully, this will help. I pick up the small plastic bag and leave the room.

I walk upstairs, where even more memories invade my mind, and I realize just how hard this decision will be; the one I haven't made. I check the time; I've got just enough time to shower, change and pull myself together before Sam comes to _talk_.

Whatever that means.

I must admit, I'm curious. He'd told me that we couldn't talk about this over the phone, or in public, and based on what he's said, it has something to do with Callen and his recent…actions. I don't know if he put Sam up to this; really, it would be pointless. Why would you cheat right in front of your wife, then send your best friend to comfort her and talk her into forgiving you? It just doesn't sound like him.

Temporarily ignoring these thoughts, I find myself wandering into the bathroom again; thank God I'm not about to subject myself to two hours of painful thoughts, or in other words, a bath. This time, I strip down and hop into the shower, not just because I'm short of time, but because I'm determined to keep my mind from wandering until I hear what Sam has to say.

After all, I wouldn't want my subconscious to make any decisions.

* * *

"_Kensi, I really think you should-"_

"_No way, Sam." Kensi cuts off Sam's worried comment with an eye-roll. "I'm pregnant, not incapacitated."_

"_Though I would be if anything happens to you." Sam mutters as they make their way out of the car, heading into the back alley their suspect often visits. "This is all Callen's fault anyway. I wouldn't have to bring you into the field if he were here."_

"_Yeah, well," Kensi starts, uncomfortable. "Apparently the Bryans case is really interesting." She doesn't voice what's really on her mind- apparently Rebecca Bryans is really interesting. After all, this is Callen's first long-term undercover op with a romantic interest since their wedding, and why else would he be so absorbed in this case if not for the fact that he is going to be actively pursuing Rebecca Bryans this time next week?_

"_Don't worry, Kenz." Sam comforts her, noticing her deep in thought. "I'll kick his ass if he does anything to you." Kensi lets out a snort of disbelief at Sam's words._

"_No, really." Sam stresses. "He might be my partner, but you're like my little sister, Kensi."_

_Sam's soft tone causes Kensi's eyes to grow soft. "Thanks, Sam." She says earnestly, placing a hand on his arm. "But if he does anything, I'll be the first to kick his ass." She grins._

_Sam smiles. "That's my girl. Now come on, we don't want to lose this guy."_

"_Hetty would kill us." Kensi agrees as they cautiously walk through the dark alley, leaving behind any sense of security or light-heartedness they'd previously possessed._

_It all happens so quickly after that._

_As Kensi lets down her guard and turns around to tell Sam that they're clear – the alley's obviously empty – someone jumps out from behind and wraps one arm around her neck, keeping her in a chokehold. All this commotion causes Sam to turn around and take in all that's happened, and Kensi's about to fight her way out of this, but the man – who's definitely _not _their suspect – holds up the silver barrel of a gun, pressing it against her side. Suddenly, Kensi realizes that something isn't right. It must be the stress…or maybe it's just her hunger. But her stomach starts to cramp and Kensi is just so _sure _that something's wrong. And this distracts her from the current situation, something that's never happened to her before._

The baby_, Kensi thinks frantically, her eyes showing panic as Sam nods; he knows exactly what she's thinking of. Sam puts down his gun – there's no way he can get a clear shot anyway; the guy's approximately Kensi's height – and holds up his hands in surrender._

"_Please, just let her go. She's-"_

"_-Pregnant. I know." The man nods, his voice cold and detached. "Tell him he's been warned." And then, with no warning at all; not even a second's pause as Sam tries to figure out who he's talking about, the man pulls the trigger._

G_, Kensi finds herself thinking as the world goes dark around her – her stress, combined with her blood loss, finally gets the best of her as Sam puts three rounds into the man's escaping form._

Where are you?

* * *

"Hey Sam," He walks through the door I'm holding open for him. "Just on time. Food's still warm." I tell him, leading him to the kitchen. I'm subconsciously stalling for time – what Sam tells me will seal my decision; will change my future. Somehow, I'd like to get through lunch before this life-changing conversation I know we're about to have.

Somehow, Sam shares this sentiment.

"Let's eat; I'm starving," He quips.

"Hetty's making you work the whole case?" I guess as I set down the cartons with a flourish. "Ta-da, lunch." I say flatly, though I've tried to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.

"Thanks," Sam says as he accepts the cutlery I hand him. "Yeah," He says in response to my earlier question. "Didn't even get home last night." He digs in while I survey his appearance. He'd probably showered and changed at OPS before heading here.

I nod and start picking at my food – between all that's been going on, I haven't really built up an appetite; I'm just glad the food isn't making me nauseous. We eat in silence for the next few minutes; neither of us know what to say. I'm lost in thought and Sam's probably sleepy or afraid he might hurt my feelings.

Maybe it's a combination of both.

Either way, the food's finished within minutes. As I get up to throw away the cartons, Sam helpfully clears away the cutlery and refills our glasses with a pitcher of cold water I've set out.

As we both sit down, I sip on my glass as he sighs, gathering his thoughts. When I put my glass down, he looks up and starts talking.

"Kensi, what Callen did last night…it was stupid." I feel the polite smile drop off my face; he _is _here on Callen's behalf, after all. I'm about to say something; tell him that it's useless for him to explain some half-assed, fabricated story when he holds up a hand.

"You don't understand," He tells me. "Callen thinks he's protecting you, in his own twisted way. Hetty told us the truth after he'd left Sarah. The minute you walked out, Hetty said, "It's done, Mr. Callen. You can come back now." It turns out Hetty still had audio contact with him, and she'd heard everything we hadn't."

"Callen got off Sarah immediately and told her that it's over, then hugged her and said thank you. Turns out there wasn't a case after all; Sarah had been in on this since the beginning. By this point, I'm pissed and I'm shouting at Hetty to tell me the truth. She leads me to her office, because Nate and Eric are still there." Here, Sam takes a deep breath as I sit up straighter. _This _sounds more like something Callen would do.

"So there's no case? Sarah knew all along, and was just acting?" I ask quickly before Sam has a chance to go on. I just need this to be clear. Sam nods.

"Yeah. So Hetty pours me tea which I don't touch anyway, 'cause I'm listening to her. God, Kensi, this is all so messed up." He sighs, bracing his hands against his forehead for a second before letting them drop back to their previous position on the table.

"Kensi," He says slowly. "Callen staged all this. He thinks he's protecting you."

"From _what_?" I demand, hovering between relief and anger. Relief that Callen hasn't been hurting me on purpose, after all. Pissed because after all these years, he still thinks I need protecting.

"This time, you do." Sam says, seemingly able to read my thoughts. "It's big, Kenz."

"How big?" I ask, unfazed.

"Russian mob big." Sam says, dead serious, maintaining eye contact with me. I don't flinch, I don't move at all.

"Tell me."

"I'm not sure." He says, looking away, suddenly normal again. "Hetty wouldn't share the details; says it's for Callen to tell. She just doesn't agree with what he's doing, and she says that over her dead body will Callen somehow convince you that he's not crazy in love with you anymore." Sam shrugs.

"All I know is that Hetty doesn't want you to leave him over some lie. So she told me that everything – the Rebecca Bryans case, the sudden awkwardness, this whole Sarah Michele thing – it's all an act, Kensi. Callen wants you to leave him so that the Russians won't go after you."

"He loves you, Kensi." Sam says softly; it's something I never pictured he would do – this kind act of trying to help our marriage.

I nod softly, holding back tears. "I know, Sam."

He gets up. "I know it's a lot," He says kindly as I stand up. "Do what you think is right, Kenz." He advises me as he wraps his arms around me, a comforting hug.

He steps out of the hug as I nod. "I will," I promise him.

He smiles. "I know you will. Don't worry, I'll let myself out. Take care of yourself, Kenz. And call me if there's anything, 'kay?"

"I will, Mom." I tease, somehow plastering a weak smile on my face. He shots me one last reassuring smile as he walks out, and moments later I hear the front door click softly behind him.

I grip my glass and walk into the living room, gulping down more water as I try to process all the information I've just received.

I check one more time to make sure I have my facts straight. The Russian mob is after my husband. And so, in some twisted, weird way I've learned to accept he usually thinks with, he tries to fake an affair, _twice_, to truly break my heart and drive me away, in some crazy attempt to keep me safe. And losing our baby in the midst of all this had somehow helped him drive me away.

Oh God. I clap my hand over my mouth, releasing a faint gasp as I finally understand my attacker's words all those months ago. Our baby…that incident had been a warning for Callen. And he must have figured out a plan when I'd blamed the accident over his absence, wrongly assuming that he'd been working the Bryans case.

Well, at least things are starting to make sense now. This whole fiasco is just Callen being Callen, though on a much larger scale than before.

As the sun sets and it starts to rain again, I sit, unmoving, on the couch, staring at our wedding picture which is directly in front of me, deep in thought.

Finally, I'm jolted out of my reverie as my phone rings. I pick up on the fourth ring, having needed some time to _wake_ myself.

"Sam?" I've checked caller ID.

"_Hey Kenz, you okay?" _He asks softly, probably worried.

"Yeah, just a lot on my mind."

He chuckles. _"Understatement of the year." _He declares.

"Yeah…"I say slowly after some thought. "Hey Sam?"

"_Yeah?" _

"When's he coming back?" Silence as Sam contemplates my words. He knows that I'll confront Callen immediately, regardless of my decision.

"_Tomorrow."_ He says finally.

"Thanks, Sam." I smile.

"_No problem, Kenz. Take care of yourself, 'kay? Don't go scratching up random cars tonight; I'll be too busy sleeping to bail you out."_

I roll my eyes; not that he can see this. "As if I'd get caught." I joke. "Don't worry, Sam. I'm just gonna have a quiet night. They're showing _Gossip Girl_…or is it _Gilmore Girls_?" My confusion amuses Sam; he chuckles again.

"_Night, Kensi."_

"Good night, Sam…and thanks, for today." I add on the last part after some thought.

"_You're welcome. You'll make the right decision, Kensi." _He reassures me.

"Yeah, hopefully. Bye."

"_Bye."_ The phone clicks as he hangs up, and after a second, I replace my cell on the coffee table. Looking around, I realize it's dark. I get up and start switching on lights; as I reach my bedroom, I stumble across the contents of the plastic bag I'd brought home from the pharmacy earlier today.

And smile.

I'm definitely making the right decision.

* * *

Life is made up of the little things.

Or so they say.

But when you really think about it, the little things are part of bigger things, and so life is actually made up of the bigger things. Or something along those lines.

Really, if you're going to choose what to have for breakfast, you must first decide to actually _have _breakfast. If you're going to choose between jobs, you must first decide to actually work.

So you see, to have choices, we must first make decisions.

To have the choice of a happy life, I must first decide how I'm going to deal with the situation at hand.

Decisions, decisions.

**

* * *

**

And here's the most worrying chapter of all.

**I just don't know what to make of this chapter – it's one of those chapters where it's either a big hit or a big flop. Kinda like movies. And the fact that's there's not one, but two flashbacks this chapter…I just didn't know how to twine them together without having this chapter turn out the length of a short story. As it is, this chapter's hit the big 4K.**

**So, leave a review and let me know : Big Hit or Big Flop? (hint : yes, I'm looking for reviews :p)**

**I know I don't say this often enough, but thank you all for your reviews. I really do appreciate each and every one of them. I know a lot of authors are always,**_** more reviews! More reviews or I won't update!**_

**Well, I, for one, have out-grown that. I'd rather have 5 loyal reviewers with real opinions than 15 random reviewers who have nothing to say. On that note, more review wouldn't actually hurt anyone, would they?**

**Kidding!**

**As usual, review or PM me if you'd like to!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_

_**UPDATE : HOURS AFTER POSTING THIS, I LEARNED THAT MY GRAND-AUNT, WHOM I WAS REALLY CLOSE TO, HAD PASSED WHILE I HAD BEEN WRITING THIS. LOST WITH NOTHING TO DO WHILE MY FAMILY MOURNED ALL OF THIS, I DECIDED TO RE-READ THIS AND RE-EDIT, WHICH LED TO CERTAIN CHANGES, ALBEIT SMALL. SO...IF YOU'RE RE-READING THIS AND NOTICE SOME SMALL CHANGES...YEAH.**_


	7. Chapter 6

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Six : Final Goodbye **

_**

* * *

**_

Callen's P.O.V

The final goodbye.

It all sounds a little dramatic to me. Or, it used to. But right now, as I make the long drive home, I know that's what I'm about to face. I know that Kensi isn't one to stand for what I've done; it's one of the many reasons why I love her.

But somehow, even when you say your final goodbyes, you find yourself at a loss.

Because your heart just won't let go.

* * *

I drop by the office before facing her; maybe I'm stalling, maybe I just need some more time to reconcile with the fact that I've effectively driven away the only woman I'll ever love.

As I walk in, I experience a moment of irrational fear: what if she's here right now? What if she's decided to just work through the night and she's here right now? She's not expecting me, but she'll probably get over the shock of it pretty fast and demand a divorce right away.

As I walk in, it's pretty obvious that I'm the only one here right now. I sigh and close my eyes for a second; thank God I haven't started seeing things, because yes, I am tired enough for that to happen. It's been a long night; I decide to simply spend the night here and drive back in the morning. Once again, I'm perfectly aware that I'm stalling as I take a shower and pull out the extra clothes we all keep here.

I'm walking to the couch when I first realize that I'm not alone. There are lights on- how could I have missed that? Some operator I am. My first guess is Hetty- she's _always _here. Well, it is Hetty…and also Nate.

"Ah, Mr. Callen." Hetty says in a pleasant but distracted tone as she looks away from Nate and their conversation. Her eyes, however, harden and she's definitely not smiling. And so I know I've disappointed her.

I never did like disappointing Hetty.

Maybe it's because she's always stood up for me against most people, even when she was openly pissed off at me. Maybe because over the years, I'd somehow started seeing Hetty as family. Maybe it's just because she's my boss and it's never a good thing to disappoint your boss.

Nate looks up from the file he's studying and keeps a neutral expression. "Callen? What are you doing here?"

I'm about to answer him when Hetty speaks up. "Nate, could you leave us for a few minutes." She phrases her words as a question but we all know it's an order. Nate shrugs and walks away as I trail after her. She leads me to the couch before turning around to face me, remaining upright.

"Back to the couch, I see." She observes. "Do I assume Miss Blye has confronted you? Perhaps even kicked you out, just as you planned? It is, after all, your grand plan to keep her safe by hurting her first."

"Uh, no." I'm taken aback by Hetty's hostility. "I'm just spending the night here; to give her some time to think." I explain, sitting down on the couch; no point in being subtle. Hetty knows all, as usual.

"Giving yourself some time to accept this, you mean." She says coldly, obviously not pleased by what I've done. I sigh; a pissed-off Hetty isn't something anyone in their right mind would like to deal with. I prepare myself for the rant of a lifetime when suddenly, she sits down next to me.

"You, " She turns to face me. "Are one of the most idiotic agents – and truly, men – I've ever faced. And I trust you know that I have faced many, _many_, politicians, most of whom were idiots in their own right."

Hetty has this way of talking, I notice, that just makes you feel like an imbecile. Or a really young, immature guy. I guess when you've lived through what she has, you're just automatically that much more intimidating. See the world and all the ways it's screwed up, and you have a little more authority over the younger people.

"What you are doing to Miss Blye disappoints me beyond words." She says simply, standing up. "And her actions, whatever they may be, will be fully condoned and justified by this department."

I gulp- what Hetty means to say is this: _I've got a lot of contacts, and should your wife choose to harm you physically, just know that I won't protect you…because I told you so. _The last part is just that obvious.

Great. Even Hetty thinks Kensi should kick my ass.

She's waiting for me to say something, I realize as I note her expectant gaze. "I know, Hetty." I sigh and decide to tell her the truth. "But as long as she's safe, I really don't care what happens to me. You know that."

She nods. "That much, I do know. But as for the rest of it, I've simply given up deciphering the inner workings of your brain."

"Who knows, she might kill me and get rid of all the Russians. Less paperwork." I joke to break the sudden silece. Her answering glare wipes the half-grin right off my face. "Bad joke. Right."

She sighs heavily. "I know you want only the best for Miss Blye…but don't you think she has the right to choose for herself?" Actually, she does have the right. But I know that if given the choice, Kensi will stick with me even if it means that she'll be putting herself in danger; Kensi values our vows above anything else.

I remain silent, thinking about this. Hetty leaves me with a few parting words which make me second-guess all of my choices.

"Did you know, Mr. Callen, that it is in fact, possible, to die from a broken heart?"

I let her leave in silence, though my mind has an answer to her question. One that seems a little too emotional...though true:

_Of course I do, Hetty. I'm dying from one right now._

_

* * *

_

Callen bursts into the room, doors swinging wildly behind him.

"_What happened?" He demands. "What's wrong? Damn it, Sam, tell me." Sam rises from his seat and glares at Callen._

"_You want to know what happened?" He says animatedly, his actions tense from the anger he's feeling. "What happened is that you were MIA this morning, and so I drag Kensi to the field, where some random psycho grabs her, knowing that she's pregnant, and fucking shots her in the stomach." Sam's shaking with rage right now; Hetty stands up._

"_Language, Mr. Hanna." She reprimands, though there's an undertone to her voice. "Sit down, both of you." She orders as the doctor comes out._

"_Family of Kensi Blye?"_

_The five of them – Callen, Sam, Hetty, Eric and Nate – crowd around the doctor. "I'm her husband." Callen says in a rush, impatient._

"_We did everything we could," The doctor starts and Callen feels his shoulders slump with regret and guilt. "She's still under general anesthesia, so we haven't informed her yet, but I'm afraid we lost the baby."_

"_Oh Lord," Hetty utters in disbelief, clapping her hand to her mouth. Eric and Nate sink down into their seats while Sam starts cursing. Callen squares his shoulders and hardens his gaze._

"_I need to see her." He demands._

"_Very well," The doctor nods, uneasy that this man has seemingly no reaction to the loss of his child. "Only one at a time," He tells them as a nurse appears to lead them to Kensi._

_Hetty stays back for a moment. "Thank you, doctor. Are there any precautions we are advised to take?" As usual, she's paying attention to the details most would forget; the level-headed one in a crisis._

"_She's been shot before?" The doctor asks for confirmation. Hetty nods. "The usual, then. Careful with the stitches, no physical activity and the likes."_

_Hetty thanks the doctor once more before joining the others who've waited for her near the elevators. "You people have no manners what-so-ever." She chides, though they know she's just channeling her grief in a different way._

_They stay silent until they reach the floor Kensi's on. The nurse leads them to some chairs near Kensi's room, inviting them to sit there and take turns visiting Kensi. As expected, Callen goes first._

_When he opens the door, she stirs a little, barely awake._

"_G?" She calls; her voice is small, scared._

"_Hey," He says softly in what he hopes is a soothing, calming manner. He walks to her side, pulling up a chair next to her bed._

"_What happened?" She asks, disorientated and drowsy. He inhales deeply- he'd known this was a possibility all along, but to actually have lost their baby…and to break it to her…_

"_Kenz, what do you remember?" He probes gently. She stays silent for a moment, needing some time to pull up her memories as she fights against the hazy state of her mind._

"_Sam and I were after a suspect." She says slowly, walking him through the events._

"_It was a dark alley and the guy wasn't there. So I turned around, to tell him that we're clear…and then…" She trails off, quiet as she recalls the events. He keeps silent as her emotions play out across her face. First denial, then pain, and slowly, fear._

"_Callen, please." She begs, her eyes pooling with tears. "My baby…"_

_He takes both of her hands in his, squeezing gently. "Kenz, I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault…" He explains as she goes rigid._

"_No." She says firmly, unwavering in the belief that nothing could have taken her baby away from her. "This is not happening. Why are you lying to me? Why-"_

"_Shh…" He calms her. "We lost her." He murmurs. "We lost her."_

_She wrenches her hand from his as acceptance plays on her face. Within moments, she's hysterical, tears coming fast and strong as she starts screaming._

"_You weren't there, Callen!" She blames him. "You weren't there and this is all your fault! You weren't there!"_

_She's repeating these three hateful words as the doctors rush in; as the team gathers outside the open door to observe what's going on._

_Her final words are murmured softly, and yet they cause the most hurt, not just for him, but for her too. Because her last words are what lead to his plan weeks later. Because in his bid to keep the truth from her, he's spawned a lie he could never reveal. Because while he was off figuring out ways to keep them alive, he'd lied and covered it up with the Rebecca Bryans case. And so, Kensi's last words before she drifts off are the most painful, because they are based on a lie._

"_You weren't there…because of her."_

* * *

I open the door only to walk into total silence. I close the door behind me; cautiously walk to the living room. I don't say anything in fear of aggravating her. She greets me with the sight of her standing up, her handbag next to her, on the coffee table.

I freeze in my tracks, right after the door. Everything's quiet as I wait for her to speak; I won't even try to defend myself. It's recklessness on my behalf; because she'll get suspicious if I don't even _try_, but I don't want to lie to her. Not anymore. Suddenly, with no sign or warning, she speaks up in a firm, but tired tone. Her words are simple, clean-cut and clear.

"I'm leaving you now."

"I know." I tell her, fighting to keep my composure; to keep my feelings off my face.

"This isn't working for us anymore." She tells me and I nod. "Once I drive away, it'll be over – all of it. I won't come back, and you won't go after me. This is it; the final goodbye."

She's surprisingly calm…and the whole thing seems almost…neat. As if we've had too much chaos these past few months and she doesn't want to bring anymore during these last few moments.

She picks up her bag; sighs heavily as she walks towards me. She comes to a standstill just a few inches away from me; we never did get the personal space thing.

"Goodbye, G Callen." She says finally, grazing my cheek with her lips. I hold my breath as she pulls away and walks out; I hear the door shut behind her.

That simple click seems to wake me up; I turn around and rush to the door – I just have to see her one last time; see her drive away from all this danger I've put her in. After all that I've put us through, I should at least see her drive away. I open the door and find no one. There's no car driving away, either. I stand still in wander; no one's that fast.

"Did you think it's that easy to get rid of me?"

I turn around and see her standing on the left, leaning against her car; previously hidden from my view. She's amused, as if this is a little game she's been playing this whole while.

I tilt my head in confusion.

"Kenz? What are you doing?"

A smile graces her face. "Getting pissed off at you, of course. Really, you didn't even try to defend yourself. Bad acting much, Callen?" She teases and I walk towards her, thoroughly confused.

"But I thought you left. What are you talking about?" She rolls her eyes and groans.

"Come on!" She cries exasperatedly, swinging her arms outwards.

"I've been out of it these few months, but seriously, all that you've pulled? I know, G. And I'm really, really pissed that you thought you had to protect me from this." She rants.

"Really, G, you should know better. I know how to protect myself, for crying out loud!"

"Kensi, you don't understand." I say; I'm not going to offend her by lying anymore – I'm just going with the truth. "These people are dangerous. They killed our baby. They're after me, and by extension, you." I go on, hoping for her to get to her senses and run the Hell away from here.

Though it's highly impossible.

"Damn it, what I'm telling you is that I know, and I'm staying." She curses, annoyed. She groans and pulls me in, crashing her lips to mine.

As soon as I try to pull away, she wraps her arms around my neck, forcefully keeping me rooted. She moves aggressively against me, trying, I guess, to knock some sense into _me_. I'm powerless against this; my lips move instinctively against hers, reading all of her frustration, her anger and her love.

She pulls away, gasping for breath though her eyes are shining. She presses her forehead against mine. "I'm staying, G. I don't care what you do next – I'll kick your ass, but I'm staying."

"Kenz, please." I beg, a last-ditch attempt to protect her from all that she doesn't know. What she _does_ know, I figure she knows from Hetty. Or maybe Sam. Hell, I wouldn't bet against Nate telling her the truth.

She growls, thoroughly pissed and annoyed. She pulls away; crosses her arms against her chest. "I. Am. Not. Leaving. Get that into your thick skull, Callen, and stop talking so much."

I sigh, shoulders slumped. "You know they could kill all of us, right?" I check.

"I know." She says casually.

"And you know just how dangerous they are, how much pain they could inflict on us…"I go on, confirming with her that she knows just how much she might loss.

"Damn it, G," She growls again, glaring at me. "For better and for worse, through thick and thin, despite all the crazy dangers we might face in the line of duty." She quotes our vows to my face.

"There's a reason I tacked on the last part." She informs me. "And that's because I knew this would happen. So shut up and accept this, because it's starting to rain and I would like to go in now."

"You said something about a final goodbye." I tell her. She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, it's final. Because after this, I don't plan on saying goodbye to you again. Ever." Her eyes meet mine; her face softens.

"We're not leaving you, G."

"We?" I question. She smiles and reaches for my hand.

"Me," She places my hand on the flat plane of her stomach.

"And Baby Callen."

* * *

Most of the time, the final goodbye can mean _the end_. It says, _I'm done, this is it, ciao._

It can be painful and at the risk of sounding soft, break your heart. It can mean the end of something; it most likely _does_.

But what I've just found out today; what Kensi's taught me is that sometimes, final goodbyes mean just that.

Sometimes, it's the last goodbye you'll ever have to share with that person…because after that, they're just never leaving you anymore.

I like that kind of final goodbye.

**

* * *

**

And there's the big chapter, the end of our angst.

**I know it's kinda short…and crappy...but this is all I can write right now. And after this, we have 2 more chapters and an epilogue. I'll try to update daily, as usual, but I might be occupied with my grand aunt's funeral and all. (Note : Though if this really does suck, let me know and I'll re-write the entire thing. Seriously. I promise. Though it would be generally the same idea...but maybe a little longer...more emotional...stuff like that.)**

**Thanks for all the condolences, you all. You're really the best readers ever. To Grand Aunt Kim, this one's for you, because I'm just having a hard time saying my final goodbyes. Love you, forever.**

**As usual, review or PM me if you'd like to.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	8. Chapter 7

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Seven : Buttercup**

* * *

Kensi's P.O.V

Buttercup.

It's such an innocent word. And confusing. When someone says buttercup, you might think of a flower; a song; a color.

When someone says buttercup, I think of those bright walls in the nursery; those walls I'd faced while watching my life fall to pieces. When someone says buttercup...I think of all that my baby will never experience; just like the nursery she'll never see.

In fact, when you think of it, buttercup is just another endearment my little daughter will never hear.

* * *

When I wake up, the first thing I feel is the heat of someone's gaze. The second thing is the hand on my stomach.

I'm about to jump up and attack - it's this instinct that's just engraved in me; something that requires no thought at all - when my brain starts functioning and tells me an attack would be a bad idea. Beside me, the man I now recognize as Callen chuckles.

"Good morning to you too, Kenz."

I turn around to face him, my thoughts fuzzy and unorganized. "Morning," I say shortly, buying myself some time to clear up my brain and yesterday's events. My anger, dissapointment...waiting for him to come home...finally letting him know that I'm not going anywhere, despite the Russians...the baby...

_Oh_, I think to myself as it all comes back. _We're alright. Everything's alright_. I smile at this thought, though I quickly replace it with a frown. "I'm still pissed." I inform him, getting up. He jumps up and trails after me to the bathroom.

"Why?" I suppress a smile at his clueless tone.

"Damn it, Callen," I spin around to face him. "You almost destroyed our entire marriage because you thought I can't protect myself when I've been telling you for years now that I bloody well _can_!" I'm not _really _pissed, but I'm trying to make sure he won't ever do this again.

"Kensi," He says slowly, tired. "I'm sorry I had to do what I did, but if I had to, I would find a different way to do it, though I would still try to drive you away. These people are dangerous. You _know _what they did. And now that you're pregnant again-"

"-Nothing will happen. Because I know this time." I say confidently, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"You can't be sure." He retorts.

"Yes, I can." I say softly, taking his hand. I'm still mad, but I know now that Callen's just trying to protect me, and if things were the other way around, I know I would do the same, even if it meant hurting him. Because sometimes, to protect the one you love means doing anything_...anything_. _"_I know about this now," I remind him. "And so does the team. We'll sort all this out."

He sighs. "Do you really think it's that easy?"

"No," I roll my eyes. "But I'm not leaving either way. Face it, G- you're stuck with me." I tease, grinning. He groans dramatically.

"God no, this is going to be painful." He jokes. I smack him lightly on his arm before pushing him out of the bathroom.

"Out." I tell him. "It's the weekend, and I'm taking a nice, long bath." I slam the door in his face before crouching down in front of the toilet bowl, trying to be as quiet as possible as nausea hits me once again, making me dizzy.

Midway, I get up and turn on the water to fill up the tub, knowing that the sound will cover up my groans. After a while, I slowly stand up and rinse out my mouth, picking up my toothbrush. My thoughts wander as I go through the mechanical motions of washing up.

Now that I know everything, things will be different. But definitely not safer. Russian mobsters? Who gets themselves involved with Russian mobsters, for crying out loud? I laugh silently as I replace the brush. Callen really has a way of keeping our lives interesting.

The sound of water splashing to the floor alerts me to the overflowing tub. I hurry to turn off the water- I really don't want to deal with an indoor-flood right now. I strip off and aim my clothes in the general direction of the laundry hamper, gingerly lowering myself into the tub, trying not to dislocate too much water. I sigh as I sink into the warm water, letting my thoughts roam freely. Just knowing that I can do this without fearing any sort of distressing thoughts calms me down significantly.

Sunlight filters in and casts light shadows on the tiled-floor, hitting on the used pregnancy tests I'd thrown in the trash late Thursday.

I smile as I close my eyes, reflecting on my somewhat-crazy and yet semi-normal life.

My smile grows wider as I realize that I wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

_I slam the door behind me, tears clouding my vision as I stomp upstairs with only one destination in my mind: the nursery._

_I walk past the bedroom and head straight for the brightly painted door to match its buttercup walls. Walking in, I feel my rage settle down and I slowly shut the door behind me, unwilling to break the peaceful silence which envelopes this room._

_The wide French windows allow sunlight to enter the room, illuminating the room in a light, golden haze. I sink down to the floor, my back against the door; I'm not going to step any further into the room, not with all these _emotions _I'm facing right now._

_I close my eyes and draw my knees against my chest, trying to stop the tears. I draw in a deep breath, remembering the technique I'd used at someone's funeral. Strangely, proper breathing actually stops your tears. I focus on the steady inhale, exhale pattern I've created, trying to block out those images from my mind._

_My eyes shoot open as the giggles of the beach crowd ring out. "It's not working." I mutter, frustrated. Standing up, I start pacing, too enamored in my anger to realize that my shoes are leaving prints on the light carpet._

_Why?_

_Why me, why now, why, why, why?_

_These questions repeat themselves in my mind over and over again until I'm ready to repeatedly slam my head against the buttercup walls. Instead, as a young child's wails reach my ears, I once again sink down and sigh heavily, inviting tears to stream down my face._

Okay_, I tell my mind. _Show me what you've got. Show me how long a list you can give me, a list of people loved and lost, a list of all those times I should've cried and yet didn't. Then let me cry it all out now and leave me alone.

_And so my brain does exactly that. It shows me everyone, not just my father and Dom, but other distant relatives, friends, acquaintances, colleagues…the list goes on and on until finally, I start to hiccup._

"_Hic," I sob, and then take a moment to appreciate the absurdity of this situation. I'm a grown woman, crying so hard that I'm actually hiccupping._

_Really, it's not every day you find one of us. We're like unicorns- a dying breed. _

_This last thought adds to the general craziness of this moment and even as my mind is warning me not to, even as that small voice inside me is going, _well, damn, she's finally lost it_, I can't help myself. _

_I look up at the buttercup walls, decorated with vibrant alphabets all over; the boxes of unopened and un-assembled furniture; the contradictory state this bright room is in right now: clean, buttercup walls and dirty carpet, complete with dusty boxes of furniture. It's kind of empty, just like me._

_And I laugh._

* * *

While Callen's out to grab us some food – in all of this emotional chaos I'd forgotten to go grocery-shopping – I mentally brace myself and slowly step into the nursery.

The last time I'd been in here, I'd had a mental breakdown the likes of which haven't been seen again (Thank _God _for that!). I'd cried and laughed and scrubbed at the dirty furniture; cursed at the instructions to building a crib which seemed to come in every language _but _English; counted out all the brightly painted-on alphabets thanks to Abby.

Yeah, I'd definitely been crazy back then.

Maybe it was all the painkillers.

Of course, Callen had walked in a few days later to find me asleep on the carpeted-floor, the crib and everything else fully set-up. And so, we just chose to ignore what had happened to have driven me to that point, because the alternative of discussing it and then leaving had proved too intimidating to me. And he'd felt bad about driving his wife to the brink of insanity.

Now, though, I know the reason behind his actions; I know why he'd kissed Rebecca Bryans on purpose, with no apparent threat; I know why he'd led me to believe that he was going to sleep with Sarah Michele.

Damn it, our lives are playing out like some soap-opera written by a lunatic caffeine-high college student.*

I sigh, crossing the room to open up the windows and sit down on the rocking-chair. I gently rest my arms on my stomach, and looking out at the ocean, I start to talk, absent-mindedly, to my baby, breathing in the fresh air that's driving out the stiffling heat of the room.

"Hey baby." I say softly, then laugh, because it sounds like the opening lines some guy might use at a bar. "Maybe we should call you something else." I muse, still entranced by the clear sky in front of me. "I'll just call you Buttercup for now." I tell the baby, thinking of the bright color.

"It's a nice word, isn't it? The way it rolls off your tongue, even though there's no _R_." I'm rambling now, but the words are coming so easily to me I can't help but say them out loud.

"You know, your sister would have had this room, Buttercup. With all these buttercup walls, of course." I'm making absolutely no sense right now. "And she would have slept in the white crib."

A seagull flies past and I'm momentarily distracted. Then it leaves and I refocus on this one cloud which looks like a baby. "But she left us." I tell Buttercup.

I wait for the usual tears, but they don't come. And so I don't dwell on it because the truth is, I'm tired of crying. And wanting to cry. And thinking about crying.

Just crying in general. I'm tired of it.

"So," I say brightly. "You're getting the buttercup walls, and the white furniture, and all these bright alphabets Aunt Abby's painted for you."

"We should probably call her. Let her know you're here." I suggest, though I'm not particularly inclined to get up right now and track down my cell.

"Maybe later."

And so we sit there in silence, just watching the clouds pass and listening to the waves. A few more seagulls pass and I wonder for a moment if I've been here for too long, and maybe Callen should be back now. But then I realize it's just been a while, after glancing at my watch, and he did mention something about stopping by at Hetty's for a while, if only to let her know that we're alright and he's still alive.

I find it funny that Hetty would have supported any violence on my part, but then again, it does sounds like her, because it would have been well-deserved violence, so there.

I sigh as a few dark clouds roll in and I hear Callen pulling up to the driveway. I pat my stomach once more, slowly getting up. I close the windows and pause at the doorway, the knob in my hand.

"Bye, Buttercup." I sigh softly, closing the door behind me. And just like that, I'm back to being the usual Kensi Blye, the one who would never spend – I check my watch – an hour and a half talking to her baby…who can't even hear her.

I slowly walk down the stairs as I hear the front door close. "Honey, I'm home!" Callen calls in an exaggerated accent, imitating those old TV shows.

"And I'm hungry!" I call after him, wandering into the kitchen where I expect him to be. He greets me with the familiar sight of take-out and two bags of groceries, and I move to help him put aside the things. He's about to suggest that I sit down and do nothing when I shoot him a glare.

"Pregnant, not incapacitated." I remind him, words I haven't spoken in months. He catches my thoughts and grins.

We work in silence except for the odd comment we throw each other while I serve up the food and he puts away the things. Within a few minutes, we're sitting down to eat and I'm really glad, because I'm _starving_. I say this out loud and he laughs.

"I'm not surprised," He tells me through a mouthful of noodles. I wait for him to swallow before he talks again. "When was the last time you ate, Kenz? And a real meal, not chips." He hurriedly adds, shooting me a knowing look.

I stammer to buy some time, trying to cover up the fact that I can't even remember my last decent meal. "Umm…you see…actually…" I groan. "I give up! I haven't been eating these few days, obviously," I shoot him a glare. "And even before that there was the morning sickness and all, so…" I shrug. He sighs.

"Not again, Kenz. Please tell me you're not going to send me out on errands for random snacks because you're convinced you'll be able to keep _this_ and _that _down." Well...there goes my plan.

I scowl. "Fine! I'll get my own stuff myself!" I huff, digging into my food.

"Yeah, whatever! As if you're going to make ten trips to the donut place a _day_." He bets and my eyes light up.

"Wanna bet?"

He grins. "You're on. A full week of getting your own food – donuts, cookies, treats – whenever you feel like it. I won't help at all." I'm about to agree when he speaks up.

"Seven days, Kenz. Think about it."

I glare at him. "I know very well how long a week is, Callen," I say, irritated. "And I'm capable of fending for myself. What do you think I did before you came along?"

He rolls his eyes, sighs dramatically and shoots me a questioning look, obviously puzzled. "God knows how you survived without me."

I stick my tongue out at him before eating up more food, trying to fill up my empty stomach. Finally, I gulp down some water and push aside my plate. "I'm full." I announce, standing up to take his empty plate too. He protests, trying to push my hand aside.

"You bought the food, I'll clean up." I reason with him. "Why don't you call Sam and tell him everything's alright?" I suggest, thinking of Sam's help in all this.

"Sam?" He repeats, obviously dumbfounded. I nod.

"He helped, a lot." I explain. "After I left, he demanded the truth from Hetty and then came by to check on me, telling me the whole story."

"I have a feeling he didn't need to demand much." He says. I shot him a questioning look. "Hetty didn't really approve of my plan, but I'd told her not to say anything to you."

"Ah," I say slowly as I understand his words. "You didn't say anything about Sam."

"I didn't think I'd have to." He mutters.

"But aren't you glad?" I smile. He walks over to where I'm rinsing out the dishes and wraps his hands around my waist from behind. He nuzzles my neck as I try to squirm my way out.

"I'm really glad," He tells me, smiling brightly.

"Me too. So go call him!" I order, trying to focus on the dishes. He laughs shortly before letting go, wandering into the living room, probably looking for his phone. I catch bits of the conversation.

"Hey, Sam? Yeah, I'm alive." He chuckles. "Kensi's here. Yeah, we worked things out. I know, I'm- Hey, I'm not an idiot! I was trying to protect her. Come on, you know about this. You would have done the same…yeah, you get what I'm saying." He laughs. "Yeah, see you Monday. 'Kay. Bye."

I walk into the living room as he hangs up, slipping the phone into his pocket.

"So?"

"Everything's okay." He tells me, patting the seat next to him. I sink down and lean my head on his shoulder. "He's glad I'm alive, because after all that's happened he really doesn't want to deal with a new agent."

I laugh. "That's Sam for you. Always has his priorities straight."

"Yeah," He agrees. We're quiet for a while as I turn on the TV and flick through channels.

"Hey, you haven't told him, have you?" He asks suddenly.

"Nope, I haven't told anyone, actually. Abby's going to kill me for that." I roll my eyes.

"Yeah…but I think-"

"-Hetty knows." I say along with him. "Of course she does. Hetty knows _everything_."

He turns to face me. "We never did get that. I mean, Hetty's either not human or…"

"Not human." I finish helpfully. "There's really no other option." He shrugs.

Suddenly, his phone rings. We both look at each other and say the same thing.

"Hetty."

Sure enough, it is Hetty. What she says though, is beyond any guess we'd had. Callen answers the call and puts her on loudspeaker.

"Hey Hetty, everything okay?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Callen," She says seriously. "Come here immediately, and bring Ms. Blye with you."

"Okay, we're coming. But what's up?" Callen asks as we both get up.

"It seems that your Russian…friends," She says tentatively, though we know immediately that her use of the word 'friends' is really just a cover-up. "Have been spotted at the airport."

"Great," Callen says dryly. "They're here." He's about to hang up when Hetty leaves us with one last comment.

"That they are. And Mr. Callen?"

"Yeah?"

"Do not let her out of your sight."

With those eight words, Hetty hangs up. I stop in my movements to look at him for a while. "It's started." I say grimly.

"It's started." He nods.

* * *

Buttercup.

It can represent a flower, a color, a person…

It can represent this room of great pain and loss; this room my daughter will never see; this room I'd had my great break-down in.

It can represent an endearment; one that my daughter will never hear; will never use.

But right now, all I know is that it represents my unborn baby, the one I will protect at any cost.

_Buttercup._

* * *

Well, there it is,

**__****Buttercup****. I find this chapter a little out-there (and short!...well, it's 3750 words...so...), but what do I know? You guys seem to like everything I don't (or maybe I'm just being too critical of my own work), so really, I'm just going with this.**

**Oh, and here's a little something: I'm on Twitter now. Yeah, tweet tweet. You can find me under the name **_**ESalvatore3**_**, because apparently there's already an E Salvatore and I just like the number 3. So yeah.**

**So, review. Or PM me. Only if you'd like to. It's your third-to-last-chance to review. Yep, after this we've only got one more chapter and an epilogue left. Then it's back to **_**Baby Sister,**_** which quite frankly, I've been ignoring.**

**One more thing: do you guys want any particular flashback in the next chapter? Because I'm a) running out of ideas and b) planning this fast-paced chapter I'm not sure I'll be able to fit a flashback into. So let me know!**

**P.S, * = That's me! The lunatic, caffeine-high college student! Yay!...wait, I really **_**am **_**nuts.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	9. Chapter 8

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Chapter Eight : To Protect The One You Love**

_**

* * *

**_

Callen's P.O.V

You do what you have to, to protect the one you love.

It's the cold, harsh truth; sometimes, you'd kill for the one you love, sometimes, you'd die for them.

Sometimes, you hurt them.

* * *

"Whatcha got, Eric?"

Kensi strides in with me just a few steps behind her. She flings her bag on the table, standing next to Hetty, arms crossed.

I walk over to stand next to her as Eric pulls up footage from the airport. "Approximately two hours ago, these guys were spotted entering through LAX. They flew in from London, still tracking their movements there." Eric zooms in to give us a closer look as I recognize the men I've been evading.

"Nikolai Stalin, Ivan Petrov, Aleksandr Igorov and Boris Nikitin. They're like, second-in-command to the big guy, so you must be pretty important, Callen." He whistles, impressed.

I scowl. "I'd rather be normal if I'm getting this kind of attention." I turn to the team. "Okay, these guys know me from way back. They were Alina's neighbours; I remember them now."

"Alina Rostov?" Kensi blinks, shocked.

"Yeah," I nod. "They heard about her and think I've got something to do with it. The 'big guy', as Eric calls him, is Vladimir Putin, Alina's childhood sweetheart."

Sam nods. "What's the plan, G?"

"These guys aren't that bad," I start, earning incredulous looks from everyone. "Really, they won't harm you if you're innocent. The trick right now is getting close enough to explain Alina's death to them-"

"-Without getting killed first." Kensi finishes for me. I nod.

"Exactly."

"And how, pray tell, do you hope to achieve that, Mr. Callen?" Hetty speaks up.

"Any suggestions are welcome." I tell them, holding my hands up. Kensi and Sam share a smile before turning to look at me.

"I've got just the plan." Kensi smirks.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Sam's heading upstairs where Hetty, Nate and Eric are waiting.

Kensi's leaning against my desk, waiting for me to state the obvious.

"You're not going."

She groans and rolls her eyes. "Callen, I'm-" She comes to an abrupt stop, her hand slowly moving to rest above her stomach. I stand up and place my hand over hers, watching her fight against herself.

"Kenz," I sigh. "Please, just do this for me. You know what they've done. Please don't let them do that again."

Her eyes move down to her stomach as she relives the previous incident. I can see that she's trying to rationalize this to herself; trying to find a loophole. Finally, after minutes of silence, she speaks up.

"Fine," She says so softly I might've missed it if not for my close proximity. She looks up at me as her fingers grasp mine. "But you have to be careful too. The kid needs a dad, Callen." I smile and nod.

"Yeah, wouldn't want him to drive you crazy."

"Who said anything about having a boy?" She retorts, pushing my hand away. There's a familiar twinkle in her eye; this isn't a new discussion.

"A girl would devastate half of L.A."

"A boy would take care of the rest!"

"Maybe we're having twins." I say casually and she narrows her eyes into a dangerous glare.

"If you think," She says slowly, always a bad sign when it comes to Kensi. "That I'm pushing out another child just minutes after the first…" She leaves the threat hanging, unfinished, in the air. I laugh.

"Let's just wait and see, huh?" She nods. I lean in to kiss her quickly, because Hetty has a knack at catching us when we're in 'compromising situations' and that's an automatic 30-minute lecture for us. "Love you." I press my forehead against hers as her arms wrap around my neck.

"I love you too, but I won't if you die."

I break away, laughing and lead her up the stairs to the room where everyone's waiting. As we approach the sliding doors, I turn to face her.

"Okay," I agree. "I won't die."

"Thank you." She nods as I wrap an arm around her waist, trying to comfort her. We walk in to find everyone talking over each other; even calm Hetty is dangerously close to shouting.

"Hey, hey! What's going on here?" I demand, letting go of Kensi. She hangs around near the doors until everyone goes quiet.

"Nate here suggested that it would be a good idea for Kensi to go undercover." Eric explains, obviously clueless as to why this would lead to an argument.

"I strongly oppose this, Ms. Blye. It's not safe," Hetty states.

"Come on, Hetty! We'll all be there; they might be more receptive to Kensi. And are you saying that you'd rather put me in danger?" Sam retorts, trying to make a point.

"I said no, Mr. Hanna, and that is it." Hetty crosses her arms, firm in her decision. Beside me, I feel Kensi squeeze on my hand. I turn to face her as Sam starts talking again.

"I think we should tell them." She whispers as Sam stops talking. I nod and we turn around to face them.

"Ms. Blye is not going out to the field, Sam, and that is final." Hetty says, so far gone that she's dropped Sam's last name and her customary 'Mr.'

"Why?" Sam demands, straightening up. There's a moment of silence – Hetty won't make our personal matters public without permission – before I hear Kensi take in a deep breath beside me.

"Because, Sam," She starts, gaining everyone's attention. She gives my hand another squeeze and I squeeze back, supporting her. "I'm pregnant." She announces.

Everyone goes still. Except for Hetty, of course.

"Well," She beams smugly. "I believe congratulations are in order, dearie." She states, walking over to give Kensi a light hug. Kensi smiles as I step away to give them some space.

"Thanks, Hetty."

"And Mr. Callen. Congratulations, both of you!" She surprises me by moving in to hug me too. When I let go, everyone else has recovered from this.

"Yeah, congrats you two!" Eric calls, smiling as usual. Nate nods.

"Congratulations," He says in his usual way of speech – half wistful, half clueless. "This will be interesting." He mutters softly, jotting down some notes.

"Man, why didn't you guys tell me earlier?" Sam complains, hugging Kensi. "Congrats, Kenz," He pats me on my back. "You too, G."

"Thanks, guys." I nod to Eric and Nate as we go back to work, reviewing some footage Eric pulled up from the London City Airport.

"I still think you should've told me earlier." Sam states, breaking the silence. I groan.

"Stop being such a whiner, Sam. It's not very becoming on you." Hetty retorts, barely looking away from the screen.

Kensi and I share a smile before refocusing on the screen. I'm smiling as we piece together our plan. It's not fool-proof, and it's not the most well thought-out plan, but as long as we stick together, we should be okay.

We _have_ to be okay, because this time around, I plan on making Kensi stick to desk work without having her worry about me every single second.

* * *

Sometimes, the best route to pick is a simple one. Even when it's a case this big, your best choice is still to try the simple route. And if they start firing bullets, then you know it's time to pick up the guns and go with the more aggressive approach.

It's a few more hours before we finally get a shot at our plan, which is fairly simple: Sam will hand them the case file, while I stay out of their sight.

Of course, we all know the trick's not to let them spot or kill us first.

I mean, as if four professional criminals would spot their target immediately. Highly unlikely. It's not like they've spent months tracking me and making my life Hell.

Yeah.

"G, you see them?"

My earphone crackles to life as Sam communicates from his spot near the kitchen. He's undercover as a waiter once again; we'd talked about simply having a _real _waiter pass the file to the men, but that plan had two drawbacks: a) We couldn't just entrust a confidential file to a civilian, and b) They might shot the guy.

I move slowly, trying not to draw attention to myself at the back entrance of the restaurant. I've got a clear view of the main door, hidden behind other customers and waiters, along with the usual dinner-rush crowd.

"Not yet." I state before Kensi's voice sounds on both of our earphones; she's back in the office with the others, keeping tabs on the surveillance cameras.

"They're heading in; it's just the four of them, but one of them – Boris – is on the phone, so expect some company." She warns, observing them through the main camera.

"I see them." I tell Sam as four impeccably-dressed men – definitely my old neighbors - enter the restaurant. Aleksandr slips the hostess a wad of cash; they wouldn't have risked using any names we could trace to reserve a table.

The hostess – a young red-head – discreetly accepts the tip and leads them to a table out of my view, probably somewhere private.

"Sam, they're here, but out of my view."

"I'm on it." He says seriously, all of his usual humor gone from his voice.

"LAPD is ready." Kensi informs me. "Just say the word and they'll move in."

"Okay." LAPD's our back-up plan; if the guys start to follow Sam after he slips them the file, Sam will move out and lead them to an alley near this entrance where LAPD will be ready to shoot if they pull out guns.

It's a few more minutes before Sam starts talking. "I'm walking to them. The file's hidden in between the menus; I'll be gone before they realize it."

"Good. Make sure they can't find you, Sam." I tell him; it's much more important for Sam to escape.

"Copy that, G. Good thing I don't stand out amongst the crowd of mainly Italian waiters." He jokes before clearing his throat.

"Hello. I'm Michael, and I'll be your server for the night. Would you like for me to leave you with the menus first?"

You know, Sam does one heck of a waiter impersonation. He's really charming, in fact. I'm about to voice this out, but I don't want to risk any suspicion.

Nikolai – I recognize his voice; he's the oldest and his voice had gone deep before I'd left – replies for the others in heavily accented English.

"Yes, thank you. We'll let you know when we decide."

"Very well."

I make a mental fist-pump; we'd been counting on them to want some privacy, but there had always been a risk of them asking for Sam to hand them the menus separately.

"I'm on the move," Sam says urgently. "Kensi, they see it yet?"

"Ivan's picked up the menus," Kensi observes. "He's taking one and passing the rest to Boris…and yeah, they've seen it." She confirms.

"I'm out of uniform," Sam reports. "Coming your way, G."

I wait a few moments before speaking up. "What're they doing, Kenz?"

"Nikolai's scanning through the file – he seems to be in charge here." She notes.

"He's the eldest." I affirm.

"Yeah, thought so. Okay, he's getting up…we've got company, guys." She says urgently.

"Who?" I demand as Sam walks through the entrance, joining me. He shoots me a look that says _I told you we should've just shot them!_

I roll my eyes, waiting for Kensi's answer.

"Guys," She says finally, her tone worried. "You're not going to like this." She declares.

"It's Vladimir."

"Great." Sam says sarcastically.

"Yeah, they're asking for you, Michael." Kensi states dryly.

"And?"

"This poor guy's told them you're in the back for a break."

Sam eyes our surroundings. "Not my break spot of choice, but I'll take it." He shrugs.

"What's going on, Kenz?" I ask.

"They're talking…way too fast, and not in English." Her tone tells me that she's trying to read their lips. "Russian?" She guesses.

"Most likely."

"Either way, they don't look very happy." She reports. "I count at least three mentions of Alina, and one of Callen."

"See, G, you're not the favorite." Sam teases, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. I laugh dryly.

"Okay," Kensi says. "They're getting up…walking towards you guys."

"They shouldn't see me." I decide. "Kensi, ask Eric-"

"-for a spot, I know." She discusses this with Eric for a while before they come to a decision. "Okay, Sam, you're supposed to stand where you are. Callen, to your left, there's a door to an empty storage room."

I start walking until a reach an unmarked door. I try the knob and open the door, quickly sliding in. There's a small, clear square which lets me keep tabs on Sam and the entrance. "I'm in." I state.

"Okay Sam, they should be there…now." Kensi says unnecessarily as the Russians, all five of them, walk into the alley.

"Where is he?" Vladimir demands, the rest of the men flanking him. His English, unlike Nikolai's, is flawless, sort of American-sounding.

"Who?" Sam says, playing dumb.

Vladimir sighs – I see his shoulders slump for a minute before ignoring Sam and calling out to me.

"Callen, I know you're here."

He starts walking to his left, approaching me, while Nikolai and Aleksandr walk to the right; Boris and Ivan guarding Sam.

"Kensi, tell them to get ready." I say quietly, referring to LAPD.

"They're on stand-by." She says quickly. "Be careful." She tells me.

"Always." I take a deep breath; Vladimir's calling to me again. I steady myself and step out of the door, hand on my holster.

"Hello, Vladimir." I say, trying to remain calm; Vladimir has always been good at reading body language – when you've got that kind of talent, you either become a cop or a bad guy.

"Callen. Hello." He says in Russian and I nod.

"It's been a long time." I reply in his language, observing all five of them. Boris is leading Sam to us; the others are already standing to Vladimir's right.

"Yes. I read your file." He states, waving aside pleasantries and cutting right to the chase. I hear Kensi say something to Hetty, something about the LAPD. Sam and Boris reach us, but Boris does not head to stand next to the others, standing, instead to Vladimir's left, a firm grip on Sam.

"You did?" I ask casually.

He nods, and takes a moment. I steel myself, ready to give the signal. In front of me, I see Sam move his other hand to rest on his gun, waiting for my command. We're tense now; it's show time.

Or so we thought.

"I'm sorry."

Vladimir's apology catches me off-guard; my hold on my gun slips, my hand coming to rest on my side.

"I'm sorry," He says once more in English, knowing that I've got others here. "For what I have done."

"It was a mistake, Callen." He says in Russian. "A mistake on my part which cost you your child." He seems regretful; I find myself walking closer to him.

"I know." I tell him. "I'm sorry, too."

He looks me in the eye with shame. "I wasn't thinking," He tells me. "It was _Alina_, and that alone was enough for me to jump to conclusions."

I dig through my memories to find pictures of young Alina, a bright and bubbly girl everyone loved. Especially Vladimir. Applying his logic to my situation, I know that if it had been the other way around, if something had happened to Kensi, I would have acted without thought.

I nod, signaling to him that I understand. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sam walking to stand next to me; Boris remains motionless, still in shock, I guess.

"Truce?" Vladimir holds out his hand.

I look down at this hand and contemplate this for a moment. This man is responsible for the death of our kid; for all the pain I've caused Kensi.

And yet, I nod and take his hand. "Truce." I agree.

Because when it comes to the one you love, you will stop at nothing to protect them, dead or alive. And I think Vladimir and I have come to a mutual understanding on this.

I let go of his hand. "Where are you going now?" I ask, partly out of curiosity, partly out of a sense of duty – I can't be responsible for five criminals running free in L.A.

He laughs shortly. "Oh, don't worry about that. We will go back now; we're not going to cause you any more trouble."

I think his laugh shocks everyone more than his apology. In my ear, I hear Nate rambling about how this doesn't fit his profile.

"Thank you." I smile sincerely; I'm really just too tired to deal with any more of this.

"Thank _you_, G Callen. I hope we will meet again."

Already, the other three are moving backwards, back into the restaurant. Only Nikolai remains; he's probably second-in-command.

"I know we will." I tell him; our paths are bound to cross sometime.

He nods, signaling Nikolai to move as he turns his back to me and walks away.

"Goodbye, Callen." Nikolai calls, catching me by surprise for a moment. But then again, he'd been my best friend those short few months; Nikolai is the closest to me in age out of the five.

"Bye, Nik." I wave. He too, nods and walks away as I sigh in relief.

"Well, that went…great." Sam says dubiously, breaking his silence. I laugh.

"Yeah, it went great."

* * *

"I told you they're good guys."

We're back at OPS, where everyone's gathered together, celebratory donuts on my desk. After making sure that Vladimir and the guys had left, LAPD had packed up and that left the two of us. Sam and I had stopped for donuts before heading back; we hadn't had a team-night in a while, because of everything Kensi and I had been going through.

"Yeah, right." Sam snorts.

"No, seriously," I stress. "I mean, they're into all this illegal stuff, but they don't do anything to innocent people. Vladimir inherited the business from his dad, but he was a good kid. He just really loved Alina."

"I understand where he's coming from, but I don't expect to see him anytime soon." Kensi says protectively, one hand on her stomach, protecting our baby. I smile.

"Yeah, he's sorry about that." I tell her from my spot next to her.

"I know."

"But you don't forgive him." She's about to reply when I cut in. "Neither do I," I reassure her. She purses her lips and nods, still unhappy, but relieved.

"Well, thank you for your explanation, Mr. Callen. Now, go home, everyone. I expect all of you in here first thing Monday to complete the paperwork." Hetty stands up, looking around.

Protests are heard amongst Sam, Nate and Eric. "Come on Hetty, we worked a Saturday!" Sam says. "Can't we at least get a day without paperwork?"

Hetty walks up the stairs without a word, leaving Sam stunned.

"Harsh," I tell Sam as I pass by him, getting Kensi's things. She stands up and takes her bag from me while I fish out the car keys from my pocket.

"Yeah," Eric nods, walking off with Nate trailing after him for a ride.

"You coming?" Kensi quips as she walks past Sam to join me. Sam looks around the empty office.

"Yeah," He sighs. "We've got paperwork on Monday…gotta rest up." He explains, shrugging helplessly, accepting his fate.

We say our goodbyes and goodnights before walking to the car, Kensi's hand safely in my own. She rests her head on my shoulder. "You're tired." I observe.

"Try spending hours worrying about your husband only to have the bad guy apologize to him." She mumbles, her words running together.

"Hey, I spent hours worrying about you," I remind her, opening up the passenger-side door for her, helping her in. I know she's exhausted when she goes in without so much as a protest. I rush to the driver's side, intent on getting her home as quickly as possible. Kensi deserves some rest after all that I've put her through.

We drive in silence as she drifts in and out of consciousness until her phone rings, startling both of us. She rummages through her bag with an annoyed frown on her face until her eyes fall on the caller ID.

"Abby." She gulps, looking at me helplessly. I pull to the side and take the phone from her.

"I'll deal with her first." I tell her softly. "I'll pass her to you when she stops ranting and/or squealing, 'kay?"

"Mmm," Kensi hums, eyes drooping once more. "Love you." She mumbles.

"Love you too." I brace myself, take a deep breath and pick up the phone. Everything's all right now, there's just one thing left to do, and that's to tell Abby.

"Abby?" I pick up, determined to make our lives go back to normal.

"Eeeeeeeeppppppppppppp! Congrats you guys! OMG, I've gotta come visit again! We can go baby-shopping again! And I'll throw a baby shower! I need more Caf-Pow!"

I chuckle, stealing a look at Kensi's sleeping form. She's safe and sound; no one's after us. The greatest danger right now is to unleash Abby upon the un-suspecting citizens of L.A.

And after all that we've been through, that doesn't sound nearly as bad, especially knowing that Kensi will be next to me, forever.

"Hey Abby…"

* * *

We do what we have to, to protect the one we love.

Sometimes, that means hurting the one you love. Sometimes, keeping the one you love safe, means hurting them. Sometimes, to hurt the one you love is your only option.

Sometimes, that means that you'd kill for the one you love; you'd die for the one you love; you'd do _anything _for the one you love.

And sometimes, the one you love will do anything for you, too.

_**~The End~**_

**

* * *

**

NOTE : YEAH, THIS ONE'S LATE BY A DAY, BUT I REALLY WANTED TO TAKE MY TIME WITH THIS ONE AND MAKE SURE IT'S GOOD...'CAUSE IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER! EEEP!

**NOTE 2 : Evershort, something's wrong with my email so your review didn't show up and I couldn't reply to it. I think this fic is kinda AU by now, because if you haven't noticed yet, no Deeks! So…I think it's AU…maybe since before Deeks showed up…my bad! And I decided to break the pattern and go with no flashbacks, 'cause this was all so action-packed and stuff. :p**

**First and foremost, I hope I haven't offended any Russian readers (I count at least 2 – story stats) by insinuating that they have gangsters and the likes. Oh, and I hope I got the names right.**

**Second, oh my God it's over! This is it, the last chapter! My baby's all grown up and complete…though we do have an epilogue left, thank God because I'm not ready to leave this yet.**

**Third, it'll be a while before I start writing CaKe again, but a few of my readers know that I've got another fic planned. It's in the works and the title and summary will be up on my Twitter soon. Tweet tweet! Remember, if you're looking for me, I'm ESalvatore3.**

**So…I'll see you guys tomorrow! Woah, that's a huge relief – no goodbyes for now!**

**Second last chance for you to review or PM me regarding this story!**

**P.S, I wrote that bit of interaction between Callen and the Russians to leave a storyline, in the event that I start a sequel.**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**March 2011.**_


	10. Epilogue

**To Hurt The One You Love**

**Epilogue : The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing But The Truth**

* * *

The truth is overrated.

**That's how I see it. Everyone wants the truth, but how many of us can really accept it? Everyone wants the truth, but how many of us share it? Everyone wants the truth, but how many of us live it?**

**That's how I see it. But sometimes, we need the truth. If only for the fact that without it, this story would be forever incomplete.**

**So here's the truth.**

* * *

It starts when someone sends him a note.

_An eye for an eye, a loved one for a loved one._

These words confuse him, but the news of her pregnancy pushes any and all irrelevant thoughts away from his mind, and so he ignores the innocent note and doesn't think to up their security.

A few days later, when all has settled down and Abby has shared her plans to come visit, they drive out to another crime scene, one of her last before he broaches the subject of desk duty, something sure to find him sleeping on the sofa. The victim is a female Marine, and she leaves behind a husband and no one else, except for a note placed in her hand. He's the first to pry it out of her hand, and so he keeps it to himself, not wanting to worry anyone else, especially his wife.

_We are here, Callen. It's only a matter of time._

The handwriting is vaguely familiar, and yet out of place, and so he spends his nights awake, listening to her breathing patterns, hoping to be soothed into sleep; his brain running through dozens of possibilities.

The third note comes just days after, and it is the most personal one yet, for it is slipped into his front door one evening; the _only _evening he's home before Kensi. And that alone gives him enough insight: they are targeting her, but they want to catch her off-guard. They are targeting her, but they want to hurt him. He gives the note a fleeting glance before calling Kensi, hopping into his car to find her.

_She was your only family, and yet you destroyed her._

He knows then why the handwriting is so familiar, and yet, at the same time, foreign. Because this handwriting belongs to another time, another language, another life.

This handwriting should be in Russian, and signed with a flourish by his neighbor, Vladimir Putin. A man he later discovers, after a _lot _of digging, was his foster sister's childhood sweetheart and fiancé, not to mention the leader of a highly exclusive underground group.

Days come and go and while Abby is here, he entrusts her with the sole responsibility of distracting Kensi while he digs further. Pieces slowly fall together and it isn't long before he realizes what he has supposedly done to gain a grudge with one of the most dangerous Russian gangs: they think he is responsible for the death of Alina.

His first instinct is to set them straight, to tell them, point-blank, that this time they are wrong; this time he is innocent and please, just leave his family out of this. But the agent in him merely scoffs and throws him a disbelieving look: _Do you really think they aren't into the age-old rule of shoot first, then question? You're getting soft, Callen - just because you have a family now that doesn't mean everyone else does, too. They won't even care._

The voice makes sense, and it voices out his fears and concerns, and so he spends all of his time without Kensi on research and planning, all the while trying to keep Kensi out of this.

Then comes the day that they attack, and her words inspire his plan, one that is sure to destroy them and kill him, but keep her safe. And that is his sole intention: to keep the one he loves safe, even if it means hurting her.

He'd lied, told her that he would be working on his undercover case, when in fact he had been doing more research and planning. And so, when they strike, they are successful only because he had been too busy trying to prevent this…to actually prevent it.

Her words…and her accusation make it all too clear in his mind how he can drive her away. And so when he finally goes undercover, leaving her alone and distraught, he pushes her to her breaking point by getting himself involved with their suspect, a young woman who is everything Kensi is not, though not necessarily in a good way. He betrays her just days after he causes the death of their baby, and both have happened, in her mind, due to this woman. And though one might scoff and say, _Kensi isn't one to fall for that_, he would be all too willing, and devastated, to say, _Yes, but this is no longer Kensi; this is a woman who has lost her baby and who thinks it is only a matter of time before she loses everything else._

And so begins their painful separation in which he pushes and she runs, instead of fighting back as she always has. He cuts and she flinches, instead of cutting him back. He doesn't make any sense and she slinks away, instead of asking more questions.

But months later, after countless notes and threats, he realizes that she isn't going anywhere; she's empty and hollow, no longer capable of anything, not even leaving him. So he gives her a push, leads her to believe that he has committed the ultimate betrayal.

What he doesn't count on is Hetty destroying his plan after all the pain he has put both of them through; the harm is done, why tell the truth now? There is nothing left to salvage.

But he is wrong. And there _is _something left to salvage; there is so much more.

And now, he realizes that while you must sometimes hurt the one you love to protect them, other times all you have to do is trust that they will trust you, and tell the truth.

* * *

The truth is overrated.

**But maybe sometimes, it is something we must share with the ones we love before we risk everything **_**but **_**the truth to keep them safe.**

_**Liar, liar, pants on fire.**_

**Watch out – that fire might just burn someone else.**

* * *

Joseph Campbell once said:

**__****We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.**

**Their whole lives had been in front of them, waiting for them. They would have a little girl, one with his eyes and her hair, his resilience and her drive, his brain and her heart.**

**And just like that, they had lost her. And almost lost each other. But in letting go of the past and in moving on, they had found that sometimes, your plan can only tell you so much. And sometimes, your life holds much more for you. **

**They had found that their lives held so much more for them…that so much more had been waiting for them.**

* * *

"Callen, I swear if she doesn't go to sleep soon…"

"Shh…" He presses his lips against hers in a bid to soothe his exhausted wife. "She will, you just have to stop babying her."

Kensi feels his lips curve against hers, amused at her recently discovered maternal instincts. It seems that though she can't stand loud wailing, she also can't stand hearing her baby girl in pain, and so exists the constant inner argument – _Leave her alone and let her fall asleep…But it's been ten minutes, something might be wrong…Okay, I'm definitely checking on her…God, please make this stop! I've got an early morning…Poor thing, she's exhausted._

You can see why this might be an inconvenience where parenting discipline is concerned. Callen breaks her out of her thoughts as he moves away. "I'll check on her, okay? You get some sleep."

Kensi nods, relieved that she doesn't have to get up and make another trip to the nursery; it would have been her eighth of the night. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" She mumbles as she pushes away the covers; it's a warm night, which is probably the cause for the baby's distress.

Callen lets out a low laugh. "All the time." He presses a kiss to her forehead before turning around to walk out.

"Make sure you check on Henry too!" Kensi calls after the retreating form of her husband before shutting her eyes, hoping to catch a little more sleep.

No such luck.

The alarm clock starts ringing the second she feels her mind drift off. Kensi groans, sitting up to silence the offensive object in fear of waking up the twins. She double-checks to make sure that it isn't a false alarm; after all, it feels more like 3 in the morning than 7.

But her eyes tell her that it is most definitely 7 in the morning, and as a very special someone is coming to visit today, she has no time to procrastinate and run the risk of being late to the airport. As she pushes back the covers which have somehow become entangled once more with her limbs, Callen walks in, carrying in his arms the now five-month-old Emilia, or as she is fondly known, Emmy.

"Someone wouldn't sleep," Callen murmurs, gently jiggling the small, cooing child. "And it's morning, anyways." He says casually, tilting his head towards the curtains. Kensi puts on a bright smile despite her exhaustion, helpless against the charms of her daughter. She stands up and allows Callen to gently pass Emmy over to her. The girl's wide, blue eyes stare inquisitively at hers.

"Hey Emmy," She stands up, walking towards the nursery with Callen in tow. "Big day today, huh?" The baby gurgles happily despite the fact that she spent half the night crying her lungs out. But that's Emmy for you: bright and bubbly, though deeply protective of her younger-by-2-minutes-brother. "Let's get Henry." Kensi suggests as Callen picks up the little boy, gently waking him up.

Henry's an angel, sleeping through the night, always feeding without fuss…his calm demeanor had led Kensi to realize that Callen had been very calm as a child, a fact he'd shared in his effort to convince his frazzled wife that no, the hospital hadn't given them the wrong baby.

"Hey boy," Callen says, walking over to join the girls. "You'll sleep through anything, won't you?" The baby barely spares his father a glance before his eyelids flutter shut again.

"Here," Callen motions for Emmy. "Why don't I take care of them while you get ready? Wouldn't want an irritated houseguest."

"You sure?" Kensi asks dubiously, though she knows that the answer is a resounding yes. Callen really does make an amazing father, and between him and Sam, Kensi has never needed to worry about the babies not getting enough fun.

As expected, Callen nods, smiling. Kensi gently places Emmy in her crib, where she immediately starts fussing. Kensi smiles as Callen places Henry in the crib along with her, effectively calming down the small girl.

The last image she notes as she leaves is one of the young twins playfully waving their hands at each other while Callen keeps a watchful eye on both of them, simultaneously pulling out the day's necessities.

Kensi rushes through her motions in the bathroom, thinking of her children. Thirty short minutes later, she's dressed and ready to take care of her children. Walking into the nursery with a bright smile on her face, she arrives just in time to dress the children.

"Your turn," She tells Callen, pulling out small clothes while he gently towels the gurgling twins dry. "We've gotta leave in thirty minutes," She tells him, armed with pants, leggings and tops.

"Dang," Callen says, grinning lightly. "There goes my hair and make-up time." He teases her usual morning rituals. She lightly swats his arm, laughing softly.

"Cut the crap, Callen. You don't want to deal with a disgruntled tech who's flying in from D.C. just to see these two." Callen nods, still grinning. He goes back to drying the kids, seeing to it that they're ready to be handed over to Kensi, who's laying out clothes and packing bags. Amidst all these preparations, Callen finds time to gently tug his wife into his arms, pressing his lips against hers.

"Good morning," He smiles, touching his forehead to hers for a moment.

"Good morning," Kensi murmurs, giving him a light peck before breaking away. "Now go get ready! I've got them, G." She reassures him.

She watches him walk out of the room, going through the motions of getting the kids ready while keeping them happy.

"My little Buttercups," She smiles. "Guess who's here to see you two? Yep, that crazy lady who plays with you all the time!" She says enthusiastically, exhaustion and all forgotten in the presence of her two little miracles.

She's chattering away with Emmy; Henry had drifted off the moment she had replaced him in the crib, fully clothed. Emmy's in her arms, gurgling happily as Callen enters the room. She stretches her arms towards her father, and so Kensi hands her over, scooping up Henry and the bag.

"Time to go to the airport, kids. We're leaving you guys and going on a second honeymoon!" Callen jokes, earning himself another light swat, courtesy of his wife, while the kids stare at him, as clueless as Eric.

Between buckling in a fussy Emmy and trying to keep Henry awake long enough to make sure that he's okay, they realize that they're running a little late. Nevertheless, they're patient with the kids, making sure not to rush through everything, just taking their time.

Because they know it's important to live in the moment, to go through everything and make sure that you don't have any regrets later on. Life is too short for regrets, but not for small moments which define our lives. And today? Today's definitely one of those small moments for this little family, one they should take their time with and appreciate.

After all, there's a CafPow! Place at the airport; Abby should be alright.

* * *

Sometimes, life can be a little too greedy; taking anything and everything from you.

**And that's when you're put to the test; that's when you have to realize that this is but a moment – a life-defining moment, I'll admit –but just a moment, something that you'll eventually move on from.**

**Because after that moment comes the next, and that's when you realize that life is really just made up of small take-and-gives; life doesn't take something without giving something back. Eventually, they had gotten their little girl, and a little boy in tow.**

**You just have to stick around long enough to realize what's in store for you.**

**You just have to trust in your life, your love… and everything else?**

**It'll solve itself…in time; in small moments.**

* * *

**So, that's it people: the real end. It's over, finish, done.**

**I struggled a little with this, not just because it really**_** is**_** the last chapter (obviously) but also because I wasn't sure what to do: something in the future, or this big tell-all that I hoped would answer any lingering questions.**

**So I settled for both.**

**But then I ran into a lot of dead ends, got mad at myself a whole lot, and cursed my muse, who's really pissed at me right now. Oh, and I read lots and lots of fanfic. You guys are amazing! And a few more relatives of mine passed…**

**But then I felt guilty about leaving you guys waiting (not to mention the readers of **_**Baby Sister**_**, who haven't received an update in almost two weeks - ... or is it three?- because I've been working on this fic.) and decided that I'm going to finish this, God damn it, no matter what. And it took me five days, but I'm happy with it, and I hope you guys will be too.**

**So I'd like to thank all of my reviewers, many of whom I now consider friends: **_**evershort, marie94/marie, Sairs J, Madil93, amblue36, DonStella, anonymous, Anonymous, TwilightPony21, misscsiny, quiltingbren, SuzyloveCSIMiami, JanApril, char, Tiana-P, Ashleigh, Jessica237 and Maira the Panda.**_

**Wow, that list was longer than I thought it would be when I first started with this! So thank you thank you thank you, everyone, for reviewing and sharing your condolences when my grand-aunt passed (I miss her so much!) and just sticking with this story even when I personally thought it sucked.**

**I will be writing a new CaKe in the near future, though for now I need to focus on my other fic, but for more info you can follow me on Twitter, where I'll be posting info on the new fic. Find me under ESalvatore3, because I want to keep in touch with all of you wonderful readers!**

**And that's probably the longest good-bye note ever…if any of you are still here, damn, you're good! Once again, thank you everyone, you're my best batch of readers yet, and I love love love all of you!**

**Catch you all soon…hopefully!**

**For the last time, this is**

_**E Salvatore**_

_**March 2011.**_

_**P.S, the kids' names had me stumped for a while before I started browsing, and Henry came to mind easily, so that was that. I struggled with the girl for a while until I ran across Emilia, and the name just stuck with me, despite the fact that I'd tried out a dozen or so other names.**_


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